


Built To Fall Apart

by notatruefan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Artist Harry, Artist Zayn, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Football, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Louis has anxiety, Louis-centric, M/M, Out of the Woods, footie louis, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notatruefan/pseuds/notatruefan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has spent his life denying who he was. It's one of the sacrifices it takes to become a footballer in the Premier League. That is, until a curly haired artist waltzes into his life. Suddenly Louis doesn't feel like denying himself any longer.<br/>But it's dangerous, in a world of black and white, to be in screaming color...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Built To Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspiring by Taylor Swift's song "Out of the Woods."  
> From the moment I heard it I could think of little else. It demanded to be written and I gave myself the freedom to write everything that I wanted. So I hope that you can feel all the love I poured into this magnum opus and don't come after me with pitchforks for writing just shy of 24K words.  
> I lost control of it. LOL  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it :)

_“Looking at it now, it all seemed so simple...”_

 

Louis’s foot beat a tattoo on the plush carpeting of the General Manager’s office. He was impatient.  He slouched further down the leather chair situated in front of a mahogany desk. He was starting to suspect the chair cost more than his mum’s rent. The thought gave him a sick pleasure. His grubby football kit was ruining it.  He rubbed his shoulders harder into the supple leather with a small grin.

    “Thank you for being so patient,” the GM said shutting the door behind him. “I know you’re itching to get back to practice.”

    “You could say that,” Louis said with only a trace of smugness in his voice.  He ‘itched’ his shoulders against the leather chair again.  The GM was a balding man that had the bearing of a man that had once been a top athlete.  The affect was somewhat ruined by the slight bulge around his midsection. It pulled at the expensive seams of his suit.

    “Well then let’s get right down to it then,” the GM said steepling his fingers on top of his desk. “We need you to clean up your image.”

    Louis let out an audible huff that ruffled his fringe, “What are you? My mum?”

    The GM’s brows furrowed, “I am your boss. So what I say should have a little more sway than just what your mum says.”

    Louis crossed his arms over his chest and sunk further into his slouch.  He realized it wasn’t mature but the stern voice the GM was using was rubbing him the wrong way.  Secondary school headmaster-y.  Not Louis’s style.

    Mistaking Louis’s silence as acquiescence the GM continued, “Your most recent behavior is tainting the dignity of this team. The Board and I have decided that you’ll volunteer at a local art charity--”

    “Gay.” Louis groaned with an eye roll that would have made a prima donna proud. “I’m not going to do it.”

    “You are,” the GM said with a dismissive hand gesture. “If you ever want to play again.”

    “You’re suspending me?!” Louis sat upright, “You can’t do that, I’m one of your star players!”

    “And if you don’t volunteer you’ll be one of our suspended players,” the GM said leaning back in his chair.

    “But--But--” Louis stammered, “We’ve been winning games!  I’ve been winning you games!  Without me you’ll--”

    The GM slammed his hands on the top of his desk, cutting Louis off. “Without you we’ll what?  Lose?  You think you’re the only young hot shot who wants to play in the Premier League?  Don’t make me laugh kid.”

    Louis stared open mouthed at the GM as he continued, “Football is more than just winning games.  Football is about making money.”

    “But winning makes you money, and I’ve been winning a lot” Louis’s shot back, the fire growing inside him.

    “You just don’t get it,” the GM shook his head, “Sure winning makes us money, but there’s more to it than that.  Jersey sales, season tickets, there’s where we make our money.  We want every mother’s son to worship the ground you walk on.  To want to wear your jersey and see you play.  To want to play like you, smell like you, to be you.  But if we can’t preserve the image that you are a god amongst lesser men...then I have no use for you.”

    Louis stared at the GM in stunned silence.  So this was his ultimatum then.  Clean up or he wouldn’t play.  The gravity of his reality labored Louis’s footsteps as he headed to the door.  

    Just as his hand reached the handle the GM called after him.  “My receptionist has all the details for your volunteer hours.  Should you choose to continue your career in football.”

    Louis only nodded quietly and exited the plush office.

 

***

 

    “Who does he think he is?  Bossing me around like that.” Louis growled as he paced the length of Liam’s office.  He had marched straight down from the GM’s with the intention of diving headfirst into an ice bath.  Hoping it would either cool him off or give him a head cold to excuse him from the charity event.

    Instead he found his two best mates.  Liam Payne, the physical trainer, stretching out the best forward in the league, Niall Horan.  They practically begged him to unload his rant upon them. Okay they hadn’t begged him, but Niall had asked what had his knickers in a twist was essentially the same thing. 

    “I mean technically his is your boss.” Liam said as he leaned more into the hamstring stretch he was giving Niall.

    “But this is uncalled for!” Louis dramatically waving the leaflets in Liam’s face. “This is management interfering with my life!”

    Liam and Niall somehow managed to dish out simultaneous eye rolls.  The clinical intimacy the hamstring stretch was putting them in made the gesture comical.  But Louis was too furious they weren’t on his side to laugh.

    “Oh for God’s sake Liam, I came to play football not PR monkey!” Louis said crumpling the papers into a ball.

    Niall rubbed at the stubble on his chin, “I don’t see what a couple of hours of--”

    “It’s the principle of the matter Niall,” Louis sighed with exasperation. “I made a couple of mistakes.  Got into a couple of bar fights.  So sue me!  I’m only human.”

    “Ayyyye yer just sexually frustrated is all,” Niall razzed him. “GM should have suggested a good wank.  Or maybe a quality shag.”

    Louis shot daggers at Niall, “I can’t ‘just have a good wank’ Niall.  And you know why.”

    “I thought you had that girl Eleanor you could call for your ‘PR shags’.” Niall smirked at his newly coined term.  Louis’s entire face turned maroon, and he chucked the paper wad at Niall's head.

    “She’s not...satisfying anymore,” Louis bit out angrily. The way his voice was laced with embarrassment kept Liam or Niall from commenting.

    “Then why not...I don’t know,” Liam tried, “Call a bloke?”

    Louis rushed across the small space and covered Liam’s mouth with his hand.  “Keep your voice down,” he hissed frantically looking over his shoulder. “If anyone finds out...it’ll ruin my career.”

    “I don’t understand why you can’t just come out,” Liam stage whispered to Louis. “I would make your life a whole lot easier.”

    “You of all people should know why Liam,” Louis said. He pierced Liam with a knowing look.  They both knew what Louis was alluding to. Liam had nearly lost his job over hinting he might be bisexual to their teammates. Some had refused to be stretched by a man. Especially if they thought he was checking out their jockstraps.

    “If you hadn’t started dating Sophia, the fittest girl on the planet, we both know you would have been fired.” Louis finished and he watched the flicker of agreement pass through Liam’s eyes.

    “Ye just got to pull the trigger and be the first out of the gate,” Niall said simply. “They can’t cut the first out player from the roster.  The PR would be a nightmare.”

    “The can’t cut a gay. But they sure as hell can stop him playing Niall.” Louis poked him in the chest as he listed his reasons. “Injure him so he can’t play. Stop passing to him.  Hell, they could get him so tied up in press releases that he never gets to practice with the team.  They can cut a player that doesn’t play.”

    “So what are you going to do then?” Niall asked.

    “I don’t know,” Louis said rubbing at his eyes.

    Then Liam said the obvious. “Well if you aren’t going to get laid, then I guess you don’t have any choice do you?”

    No, Louis thought, he didn’t.

 

***

 

    Cameras flashed in Louis’s face as he posed in front of the logo-ed backdrop.  He was dutifully playing his part as ‘PR Monkey’ on the team’s sponsored Art’s Night Out event.  He had dressed with care, pairing a black tuxedo with a more causal striped shirt.  His own version of a ‘fuck you’ to the GM’s demand that he dress formally.

    “Come on already, let’s head inside.” Liam whispered through a pinned on smile.  “They’ve got enough photos of you to headline for the next 2 years.”

    Louis posed for one more photo before giving a gracious wave to the photographers. Then followed Liam into the gallery.  He wanted to make damned sure that the GM saw he was participating.  He had been given 2 options. Make a string of glamorous appearances at team sponsored events.  Or spend the next several weeks (or months) helping paint a mural next to some slum-y train stop. In the hot sun.  Louis chose the former.  Much less work.

    Inside Louis manhandled Liam in the direction of the bar.  That was the other reason he had chosen his role as PR Monkey.  Much easier to get liquored up on the job.  And Louis planned to get knackered.

    “Can I buy you a drink Liam,” Louis threw over his shoulder as he signaled the bar tender. “Considering you only came because you’re a good friend.  You deserve to be liquored up.”

    But Liam wasn’t listening.  He was staring off at a fixed point across the crowded gallery with such intensity Louis turned to follow his gaze.  Suddenly it became clear why it hadn’t been hard to convince Liam to come. A man with face melting attraction was smiling at Liam like he recognized him, and was heading right towards them.

    “You little shit,” Louis swore at Liam, “You were going to come anyway.”

    Liam had the grace to blush but didn’t take his eyes off the approaching man.  He was all artsy intrigue and sex appeal.  Tattoos dazzling on his arms. Chunky glasses that magnified the thick rim of lashes around his dark eyes.  Louis had to shake himself off mentally to break out of the strangers draw.  

    No wonder Liam had gotta interested in art, Louis thought.  Louis would go to a thousand of these PR parades if it meant he could be stared at by an attractive someone.

    “Louis this is Zayn,” Liam voice sounded warm around the other man’s name. “He runs this gallery.”

    “You must be one of Liam’s friends from the team,” Zayn said shaking Louis hand. “He talks about you all so much.”

    “I wish I could say the same,” Louis slide a sideways glance at a panic stricken Liam. “But I guess I always tune out Liam’s art side.  Got to focus on the game right?”

    Zayn smiled and nodded. Liam looked visibly relieved. "Liam that piece I was telling you about just came in. I just met the artist, he's fantastic.” he directed to Liam, then added, “You should come with us Louis."

    The bartender choose that moment to return with Louis’s drinks.  

    “Nah, better without me,” Louis said, “Besides I’m all tied up here.”  

    He gestured loosely toward the drinks.  He lifted one and gave Liam a small salute, “Try to console yourselves over my loss.”

    Liam’s puppy-dog-eyed expression immediately looked relieved. Zayn also couldn't hide his pleasure, “Oh well, guess it’s just me and Liam then.”  

    Liam didn’t look back at Louis as Zayn grabbed hold of Liam’s hand. Weaving them between the other gallery patrons.

    Louis felt an odd surge of protectiveness toward the disappearing Liam. What were Zayn's intentions?  Were they honorable?

    Catching his train of thought, Louis scoffed. He chased the bad taste away with the rest of his drink.

    He exchanged the empty glass with the one intended for Liam. He decided he had best start mingling with the crowd. He didn’t want the GM to accuse him of not trying. And a night of standing at the bar lost it's appeal without Liam. At least walking around he could make fun of the ridiculously expensive art. That could be fun.

    Louis wove his way between people and art. He internally ridiculed a collection of oil paintings as he chewed on the end of his straw. He made a snide remark on a pitiful looking painting of fruit to a bystander. But the bystander had clearly not shared his views on the subject. After that he had kept his comments to himself.  Though doing so was also spoiling his mood.

    He found himself in front of a large photograph, almost 2 meters wide, of a black and white paper plane.  The artist had used a long exposure time to leave the blurry trajectory of the plane.  It lent a dynamic feel to the otherwise still image.

    Louis squinted at the photograph.  He had stood there for several minutes, trying to figure it out.  The cryptic title of the piece made him feel like he was missing something. Searching.  It had to mean something, but what? It was starting to frustrate him.

    “So what do you think of the photo?” a masculine voice asked from beside him.

    “It’s...confusing.” Louis said scrunching his face in concentration.

    “Confusing?” the man beside him asked again, “What’s confusing about a paper plane?”

    “It’s not just the paper plane,” Louis began, “It’s the name. Searching. What does that even mean? I mean in context to a paper plane.”

    “Maybe the plane is searching for something,” the man pointed at the trail behind the plane. “And it’s path is all over the place.”

    “But it’s a plane. What does it have to look for?” Louis said turning to the stranger.  Louis’s train of thought screeched to a halt as he registered the appeal of the other man.  He was gorgeous.

    Thick, dark curls tumbled from his head to brush the collar of his shirt.  Tattoos peeked around the folds of his shirt across his lithe body. His jawline could have been hewn from stone.  But it was the erotic rosiness of his lips that was distracting Louis from the words that were coming from them.  Oh what he’d give to have his co--

    Louis shut that particular thought down before it could gain more traction.  He couldn’t afford to allow those thoughts to continue.  Especially in public. Especially as a footballer.  In concentrating on ignoring those tempting lips, Louis hadn’t thought of an escape plan.

    “I’d love to get your opinion on this one,” the man said steering Louis to a nearby work.

    “I-I didn’t get your name,” Louis stuttered.

    “Oops! It’s Harry,” the brunette said with a cheek splitting grin. “Now what do you think of this painting?”

    Harry.  Harry.  What a simple name.  And one that kept replaying over and over in Louis’s mind.  Between the alcohol and the Harry's proximity, Louis was having trouble focusing on art.  Or the questions Harry was asking him about them.

    “So what do you think of their use of light?” Harry asked leaning toward Louis as they paused in front of another piece.

    “I uhhh,” Louis stared transfixed at Harry, “Think it’s nothing special.”

    “Nothing special!” Harry’s eyes sparkled with the thrill of the debate. “Jean Vaude is known for his mastery of using light composition in his photos.”

    Louis forced himself to look away from the piercing intensity of Harry gaze.  He looked again at the photo in question, “I mean sure it’s a nice photo.  But I’m not like...impressed? I’m not going to spend the next half hour trying to decipher what the artist meant.  Not like that paper plane photo.”

    “The paper plane photo?” Harry’s question was tinged with vulnerability, “You prefer the paper plane photo?”

    The vulnerability in Harry’s voice caught Louis off guard and he quickly backpedaled. “I mean...I would hang this--Jean Vaude photo in my entry. To make everyone think I was someone more cultured.” Louis explained, “But I would hang the paper plane photo somewhere just I could see it.  Like my office or bedroom...So that I could spend more time...unraveling it.”

    If Louis wasn’t mistaken, Harry was blushing.  He couldn’t be sure, but it was making him feel anxious again.  “Did I say something wrong?” Louis backpedaled. “I mean the Jean Vaude’s nice, I just like the paper plane one better.”

    “The paper plane one is...mine.” Harry looked bashful as a lock of his hair fell onto his face. “Did you know?”

    Louis’s eyes felt like they would pop out of his head.  His cheeks burned with embarrassment, “No! I didn’t know! I don’t want you think that was me just laying it on thick--”

    “Thank you,” Harry cut Louis off of his embarrassed tirade, “That means a lot.”

    “Any other works of yours you want me to accidentally fall for?” Louis tried cracking a joke to break the strange tension between them.

    “Well actually we’ve already seen all the pieces here.” Harry laughed as he gestured around the gallery. “And I just have the plane one here...”

    “Oh,” Louis felt embarrassed again.

    “But!” Harry perked up. “If you’d be open to it...I’d love to get your opinion on some ideas I have. For an upcoming installation.”  He fished a slightly bent business card out of his back pocket. “We could get coffee and...talk it over.  Say...Sunday at 4?”

    Louis accepted the business card and nodded, “Yeah, I’d love to.”

    “Brilliant!  It’s a date!” Harry beamed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I should get back to making the rounds.”

    It’s a date! The thought buzzed around happily in Louis’s brain. Even as he watched Harry disappear back into the crowd.  It’s a date.

    Before Louis could start to overanalyze that particular phrasing, Liam reappeared.

    “Didn’t mean to ditch you for the whole night, Zayn was just...” Liam’s words shuttered to a stop, “Telling me about an upcoming artist in residence.  Harry Styles.  He’s supposed to be a fantastic photographer.”

    “Yeah, I actually met him.” Louis said looking down at the business card in his hand.  

    “You are so lucky, I’d love to meet him,” Liam raved. “He’s listed on the UK's Top Ten Upcoming Artists.  Zayn was really chuffed to sign him on for his spring showing.  His work is inspiring!” 

    He’s also the fittest man I’ve ever seen, Louis added internally.  Realizing his emotions were probably written across this face Louis peeked at Liam. To see if he noticed.  Liam wasn’t even paying attention to Louis. He was going on about something Zayn had said.

    As Liam rambled on about art installations Louis really took in Liam’s appearance.  Something, or someone, had clearly fussed with his hair.  And his lips were noticeably reddened under his freshly applied lip balm. Maybe he wasn’t as happy with Sophia as he led on.

    “Did Zayn say how long Har--Mr. Styles is going to be here?” Louis caught himself asking.

    Liam looked befuddled, “No. He didn’t. Heard he’s kind of a wander though. He comes and goes as he chooses. That’s why it's so hard to nail him down for a residency.”

    Louis refused to allow himself the luxury of thinking about nailing Harry down.  That was an express way to publicly embarrassing himself.

    “We should go,” Louis said pretending to glance at his watch. “I’ve put in my hours and I’m done being a PR monkey.”

    Liam cast a small remorse glance over his shoulder. What Louis surmised was Zayn’s location. Then he said, “Right. It’s late anyway. I have things to take care of.”

     _So do I_ , Louis thought.

***

    None of Louis’s clothes were right. None.

    Over an hour trying to decide what to wear, and nothing looked right. His clothes screamed either ‘look at me’ or ‘who the fuck are you looking at?’.  A problem because he wanted neither of those things. Or both? He didn’t know anymore.

    He wanted some low key disguise that would keep passersby from looking at him.  Or wonder why the hell he was meeting an artist for coffee.  But at the same time would attract the notice of that same artist.  In a word: cute.

    That brought Louis up short.  He most certainly wasn’t trying to look cute for Harry Styles.  That would mean that they were on a date. And this couldn’t be a date. 

    There were simply two intellectuals.  Meeting over coffee to discuss intellectual things. And Louis wasn’t even going to think about checking out Harry’s butt.

    Well, not intentionally anyway.

    Louis pulled on a plain white shirt and his best pair of dark wash jeans.  Not because they highlighted his assets. But because they were the only clean pair hanging in the closet.  

    There were a couple clean pairs folded on a shelf of course. But Louis reasoned they’d have fold marks or…something that would make them inappropriate.

    Louis appraised the lack of fold marks over his assets. Then decided to grab a maroon hoodie and a pair of sunglasses. 

    Not for a disguise. Because he had nothing to hide about his meeting. But because it was a bright and chilly day.

    It took Louis another half hour to navigate to the Costa. He rode the Tube for an extra 2 stops, then zigzagged through the alleyways. To lose the trail of would-be paparazzi.

    He argued that he had done it for exercise. So he could order something with full milk. Not that he was afraid of getting caught, or that he was rattling the cage where he kept his demons.

    Louis scouted the surrounding streets of the coffee shop. No one was watching him.

    Deciding it was safe, Louis aligned himself to walk past the shop. He was just a meandering tourist, he coached himself. Nothing suspicious in the least. But as his path passed the entrance to the Costa, he dove in.

    Louis didn't registered the odd expression on Harry’s face. Glancing around as he sat down woodenly.

    His heart pounded with the adrenaline as he removed his sunglasses and hood.  Hardly noticeable he decided.

    “Are we in the clear?” Harry teased as he leaned across the table.

    “What?” Louis jumped in his seat, “What do you mean?”

    “I shouldn't have suggested a Costa,” Harry snickered. “You looked like you were about to rob the place, the way you were casing it.”

    “Casing it?” Louis felt dumbfounded.

    “Look I get it, you’re a famous footie player. You don’t want to be mobbed with adoring fans when you’re just out for a cuppa.” Harry said smiling, “Must be hard being famous.”

    “Oh,” Louis sighed realizing what Harry was implying. “Yeah I just wanted to make sure that…paparazzi aren’t hiding somewhere. Trying to catch us…talking.”

    “Well what you’re doing must be working. I hardly ever see you in those rags,” Harry said pushing back from the table. “Tea?”

    “Love some.”

    Harry gave him a genuine smile over his shoulder as he walked up to the front counter.  Get it together Tomlinson, Louis chastised himself.  He needed to relax and not act like he was on a first date. Because he wasn’t.

    Harry returned to the table carrying a tray with their drinks on it.  “So besides casing a Costa, do anything interesting today?” Harry asked with only a trace of teasing in it.

    “Ha ha, very funny.” Louis rolled his eyes as he wrapped him hands around his steaming mug. “Maybe I was lost.  Did you ever think of that?”

    “You’re right. I hadn’t considered that,” Harry’s eyes twinkled over his mug. “I should have realized that footie players are terrible at directions. Would explain why you haven’t completed any of your plays recently--”

    “Complete my plays?” Louis’s was stunned, and a little insulted, at Harry’s gall. “I’ll have you know our leadership has changed and we’re still developing as a team and--”

    “I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Harry smiled hard as he rest his hand on Louis’s to stop his rant. “I was only kidding.  Thought talking shop would loosen you up a bit.  Guess I was right.”

    “I’m only saying that I’ve been tense from all the changes. I’ve only just been drafted for the Premier League.” Louis felt the need to explain himself more.  He had had this particular argument with his coaches, and still felt he needed to defend himself.

    “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Harry’s thumb brushed the back of Louis’s hand with a calming pressure.  “But now I want your opinion on my own Premier League. My residency...”

    When he removed his hand Louis felt his heart lurch at the loss of contact.  A sensation he felt immediately guilty for. Clearly he was just starved for human contact.  And Harry was such a warm person he was sure to make anyone feel special.

    “So what did you think of my juxtaposition of hard and soft line?” Harry asked directing Louis’s attention to some photos he spread on the table.

    Louis tried to shove down the warm feelings spreading through his body. He had to focus on what Harry was asking him. “I think it looks great.”

 

***

 

               Louis was tangled in the sleeves of his practice jersey when he felt the distinct vibration of his cell phone in his pocket. Managing to disengage his head from a sleeve hole, Louis fumbled his phone to check the new message.

    In your unbiased opinion: chocolate croissants or giant cookie?

    Louis stared at the sender: Harry. His heart did a tiny fluttery backflip in his chest, then he froze. He checked over his shoulder.  No one was looking at him. The other lads were too preoccupied with their own conversations and gear. They didn't notice the rigid way he was standing.

    He was being ridiculous, he acknowledged. He got texts from Niall and Liam all the time.  No one would assume that this text from Harry meant anything more than any of those texts did.  Maybe Harry didn’t even mean for it to mean something. Oh great, now he was over thinking it.

    Chocolate croissants. Every time. He text back.

    See? He was just being ridiculous.  He was just causally texting his new friend Harry—

    His phone buzzed again.  Louis’s heart knocked hard twice against his ribcage. He reached for his phone again.  Another message from Harry.  And an image.

    Correct!

    Louis swallowed compulsively . He quadruple checked that no one was looking over his shoulder. What if Harry sent him nudes?  That seemed unlikely. But the thought still nagged him and he hesitantly clicked on the image to load it.

    The innocent photo was a far cry from the image of a naked Harry Louis had imagined.  Instead it was a selfie of Harry. He was grinning as a chocolate croissant dangled from his mouth.

    Louis grinned down at his glowing screen. He made the image Harry’s contact picture.  Before he could snap out of his giddy bubble, his phone buzzed in his hand.  Another text from Harry.

    In your unbiased opinion: Bananas or Carrots?

    Louis snickered to himself before typing out: Carrots????

    Another image back from Harry. He was holding an un-peeled banana in front of his mouth so that it looked like he was sad.  Incorrect!

    On an impulse Louis grabbed the comb from his locker and held it up under his nose.  An impromptu mustache.  He made a stern face and snapped a selfie.

    Carrots are better for you young man, he captioned the photo.

    Harry: Are you going to put me in a time out?

    Louis: Only if you don’t eat your vegetables.

    Harry: What if I forget? You should come make me some.

    Louis’s heart skipped a beat before he nervously replied: Can’t. I’m at practice all day :((((

    Harry: Booooo. Guess I won't be eating any carrots.

            “Whatcha smiling at mate?” Niall’s chirped from over Louis’s shoulder.

            “Nothing!” Louis scrambled to turn his phone off. It took his brain a minute to recognize that it was Niall giving him a perplexed stare. Not one of his…less understanding team mates.

            “That’s not what it looks like to me,” Niall said as he sized Louis up. “Looks like you’re trying to hide something.”

            “Hide something?” Louis only managed not to croak.  He could feel sweat at his temples as his face flushed. “What could I possibly have to hide?”

            “I don’t know. But don’t think I won’t figure it out mate.” Niall said crossing his arms, “Unless of course, you’re feeling like sharing.”

            Nope, Louis did not feel like sharing.  And what would he say anyway? Harry Styles had asked if he liked chocolate croissants and it made him feel warm all over?  Louis might trust Niall with his sexuality, but he wasn’t ready to trust him with his…crush. 

    That would make everything so much more real. And it not being real was safer.

            “There’s nothing to share,” he said all blasé. “It was just a cat meme and you scared me.  I can send it to you later if you want.”

            “God no,” Niall waved Louis off. “You use up enough of my data as it is with your rickrolls.”

            “That’s what I thought.” Louis said with a smirk, “Now come on, we’re gonna be late for practice.”

     The two lads headed out onto the pitch and Louis tried not to think about the texts from Harry.

***

            Harry nibbled on Louis’s earlobe, purring in his ear. Louis lay pinned against his bed in a mountain of pillows, Harry had told him not to move.  “Just how far does that self-control go?” Harry hot breath tickled the inside of Louis’s ear.

            “You can’t break me Styles,” Louis said confidently. “I’m a steely eye missile man when it comes to you.”

            “Really?” Harry whispered down Louis’s jawline. “So this doesn’t affect you at all then?”  Harry’s hand slipped under Louis’s cotton shirt. His broad hand tickled the downy hairs on Louis’s belly and chest.  Resettling on his sensitized skin.

            “Or this?” Harry breath caressed against Louis’s skin. Harry’s thumb lazily rubbed across Louis’s nipple. Louis had to catch his tongue between his teeth to keep from hissing in pleasure.

            “You’re a hard one to break Tommo.” Harry said pulling back, “But luckily, I’ve very good.”

            Harry began to unbutton Louis’s jeans tortuously slow.  Louis froze. Caught between stopping Harry and a stronger feeling to encourage him.  But he was paralyzed by the moment and did nothing.

            In one swift movement Harry divested Louis of his jeans and his y-fronts.  Before Louis had time to register how odd that motion was Harry was settling himself between Louis’s knees. He was eye level with the physical sign that he had been affected by Harry’s earlier attentions, and looking cocky as hell.

            “You sure I’m not having any effect on you?” Harry ran a finger up the side of Louis’s hard-on.  His pressure was feather light, and deliciously teasing. “None? Guess I’ll have to work harder then.”

    Harry ran the tip of his tongue over the plump rosiness of his lips. Louis almost whimpered.  Harry was so close his breath felt like torture over Louis’s sensitized tip.  Harry’s tongue flicked out and—

    Louis gasped as he come crashing back into the conscious world.  He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his heart was pounding in his chest.  His eyes darted around his darkened room looking for another occupant.  There was none.

    Louis rest his head in his hands as he tried to calm his breathing.  He had just had a sex dream about Harry Styles.  Oh god, he was getting in deep.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had a dream that vivid before.

    Louis flopped back onto his pillows exhausted. But at the same time he was wired.  His hard-on was pulsing underneath his duvet angry at the lack of fulfillment. His mind replayed the dream over and over on fast forward.  He wasn’t going to get to sleep without a little help.

    Louis grabbed a tissue from his bedside table while he worked himself over under the sheets.  He hadn’t had a hard-on like this keep him up since he was teenager.  Back when he didn’t know enough about his own body to keep himself satisfied.  This was embarrassing.

    Shuddering out a mild finish Louis contemplated his predicament. Had it been that long since he had had sex?  He mentally counted back.  He had called up Eleanor to meet him at some high profile hotel just after Liam’s near scandal. Which had been…almost a year ago.

    He mentally scolded himself. He shouldn’t have let such a long time lapse between sessions. That’s why these things were popping up with Harry.  He had been lax with his pseudo relationship with Eleanor.  She was busy with school, he argued. But the truth was his heart just wasn’t in it, and neither was the satisfaction.

    Briefly he contemplated calling Eleanor.  She’d be glad to see him. Her high profile hook-up.  He felt a little guilty that their last ‘date’ had been almost 5 months ago. And he had hardly any time to stay for dinner. Let alone sex.

    But a glance at the early morning hour told him that it would be rude to wake her up.  Their arrangement only extended so far, and friends with benefits didn’t wake each other up in the middle of the night because they were afraid of some feelings they were developing for a certain local artist.  They just didn’t.

    Louis flopped over onto his belly and sighed heavily into his pillow. It was going to be a long night.

 

***

 

    Louis yawned for what felt like the millionth time.  He was exhausted. He had never managed to settle himself back into a deep sleep.  Every time he closed his eyes, his subconscious had dangled those erotic pink lips before him.  He had just managed to doze off into a light dreamless sleep when his alarm went off. He had almost wept.

    Practice was a nightmare.  Louis couldn't keep his eyes open. He had been tripped, elbowed, and had footballs ricochet off his face. All because his reaction time was off. After a particularly messy steal one of his teammates made the poor decision to heckle Louis.

    “I hope she was good Tomlinson,” his light footed teammate taunted. “Because your game sure isn’t.”

    “Piss off,” Louis grumbled wiping the stray blades of grass off his shorts.

    “Looks like you laid all your best game out on the sheets last night,” another teammate joined in. “I’d be bragging about how you’re getting your start in the Premier League of porn.”

    “I wouldn’t speak about your mother in such a light tone,” Louis called. Blinded by exhaustion and pride.

    “What’d you say about my mum?” the teasing had stopped, he got up into Louis’s space.

    “You heard me.” Louis sneered back.

    The temperature on the pitch had risen to a degree below chaos when Niall jumped into the fray. “Come on lads,” Niall laid the charm on thick. He swung an arm around each one of them. “Just cause an Irishmen drank you under the table is no excuse to start World War 3.”

    The two men under Niall’s arms stared up at him in confusion.  “Drank this wanker under the table last night,” Niall leaned conspiratorially toward Louis’s opponent. “These Brits are such sore losers.”

    There were some hoots from the Irishmen on the team. While the Brits grumbled under their breath. Playful fights started to break out amongst the teammates. Giving each other noogies and chases around the pitch.

    Niall expertly extracted Louis from the pitch and steered him toward Liam’s office. Liam jumped up from the paperwork he was working on when he saw Niall. He assisted Niall in driving Louis forcefully onto the crinkly hospital paper of his examine table.

    “Oh Christ,” Liam said pulling out a pen light and shining it Louis’s eyes. “Do you have another concussion?”

    “I don’t have a concussion,” Louis said crossly batting away Liam’s light.

    “He almost started a fight with Healy over a couple rude comments,” Niall explained. Liam gave him a confused look so he continued. “And he’s playing for shit.”

    “Were you out drinking last night?” Liam examined Louis’s face, pulling down on the skin around his eyes. “You look exhausted.”

    “That’s cause I am exhausted.” Louis said pushing Liam’s hands off. “I couldn’t get any sleep last night.  Well…hardly any.”

    “Was Eleanor in town?” Liam looked to Niall instead of Louis. Clearly they didn’t trust Louis to give them a straight answer.

    Niall shrugged, “I didn’t think so. It’s not the holidays yet.”

    “Maybe it’s alcohol? Or drugs?

    “Nah, Louis’s a social drinker. He would’ve called one of us first.”

    “Would you too knuckleheads shut up and listen to me?” Louis snapped. He was getting a headache and all he wanted to do was take a nap. “But you have to swear you’ll keep this between us.”

    The two lads nodded solemnly. Liam closed the door to his office to accentuate his point. Louis took a deep breath and rubbed his palms up and down his arms like he was cold.  “Last night, I had had a sex dream,” he took another deep breath, “about Harry.”

    “Harry?” Niall looked to Liam in question.

    “A local artist he met at the art gallery,” Liam said without looking at Niall. “I don’t get it. Why’s it such a big deal?”

    “Because I can’t go around having sex dreams about…men.” Louis hissed. “I’m supposed to be straight.”

    “Dreams don’t mean anything,” Niall said with a shrug. “I had a sex dream about that butch chiropractor upstairs. Doesn’t mean anything besides the fact I like her magic hands.”

    “You don’t get it. I can’t be having these thoughts.” Louis explained, “It starts off as thoughts. Then it turns into urges. Then next thing you know I’m plastered across every gossip rag. The first footie player ousted as gay. That will ruin my career.”

    “I don’t think it would ruin your career…” Liam said hesitantly.

    “You’re one to talk.” Louis snapped at Liam. “Like you’re not sneaking around with Zayn in the dark corners of the galleries. Because you’re afraid our understanding teammates won’t want to be rubbed down by a homo.”

    Liam blushed pink and didn’t say anything. So Louis’s suspicions had been correct after all.

    “You just need a good shag is all. Or a solid wank.” Niall was all relaxed and charming again, ready to diffuse the situation. “A sex dream ain’t anything to get bent out of shape over. A couple of pints and a wank will straighten you out. Ain’t that right Liam?”

    The color had just started to come back to Liam’s face, and he agreed in earnest. “Why don’t we go out now? We’ll drink a couple pints and that’ll put you right to sleep. Problem solved.”

    “Irishmen’s warm milk,” Niall nodded in agreement, “Works every time. Maybe we’ll even find you a lady of the night.”

    Louis rolled his eyes at the comment but allowed the lads to manhandle him out of Liam’s office.  They showered and changed out of their practice kits then were off to the nearby bar. A favorite of the local team.

    Louis’s phone vibrated continously. From the moment he stepped out of the locker room, to the moment he bellied up to the bar with Niall and Liam.  He was trying to ignore it. He was supposed to be decompressing with Liam and Niall. Not mooning over the boy that had nearly gotten him into a fight. But no one had told Harry that.

    Curiosity, and lust, got the better of Louis. He tried to discretely check his phone without Liam or Niall noticing. In the moments when their backs were turned to Louis hastily read the novels that Harry sent him. The kid was sending him some long and twisting story about how he had gone to some bakery. 

    Maybe Louis would have found it funny. But the secrecy and the constantly vibrating phone drove his blood pressure to a fevered pitch. His answers were clipped. Due in part to the short time he had to respond before Harry sent another. The other because Liam and Niall were watching him.

    Louis felt dizzy from the drinks. He had forgotten to count. His desensitized fingers tapped out reply to Harry, still in the midst of his story.  He was tired and drunk, and he just wanted Harry to give him a moment’s peace.  If only so that he could pretend that for a moment he was “normal”.

Hazzzz Ive had a bad day. Drinking wit Liam Niall. Leave me to my drink.

    He was feeling pleased with himself. He still had enough dexterity to text without any glaring errors.

Harry’s reply swam across his swirling vision. What bar?

    Louis sent him the name of the bar and an emoji he had selected at random: a smirk. He didn’t wait for Harry’s reply to shut his phone off. Sliding his phone back into his pocket Louis felt a sort of melancholy. Knowing he wouldn’t feel Harry’s presence through the phone proxy. But that was for the best.

    Niall and Liam had managed to commandeer a booth. Despite it being well into happy hour.  All three lads were well into their drinks, and would normally have headed home at this point. But a silent understanding mandated they stay until another lad cried uncle. And it was a point of pride that none of them wanted to be the one that did.  So drunk and artificially cheery they weren’t prepared for the new arrivals.

    Liam was the first one to spot them. Though it was Niall that asked a little too loudly, “Why’s that fucker waving at you?”

    Louis turned from Liam’s ashen face to look in the direction his friend had so eloquently pointed.  Harry was beaming like an idiot, and waving like one too. And he steered a perfectly coiffed Zayn in the direction of the booth.

    Louis did a double take, then a triple take.  Then he rubbed at his glazed eyes to make sure that he was seeing clearly.  Harry was here.  And no matter how many times he looked back at Liam’s stunned face, he didn’t disappear like the illusion he assumed he was.

    Liam suddenly snapped out of his daze and started to frantically swipe at his hair. Attempting to arrange it for what Louis assumed was Zayn’s appraisal.  Niall continued to ask who those fuckers were. But didn’t put up a fight when Harry shoved Zayn in next to Liam on the booth. Effectively pinning Niall against the wall.

    Louis introduced Harry and Zayn as Harry took his place next to Louis in the booth.  Louis merely raised his eyebrow at Harry and he answered. “Zayn and I were in the neighborhood, and thought we’d swing by.”

    “Really? You were in the neighborhood?” Louis’s tone conveyed his disbelief.

    Harry couldn’t keep up his lie looking directly into Louis’s eyes. So he turned to Liam and Niall instead, “So what are you lads drinking? I’m buying.”

    This statement endeared Harry to Niall instantly. And after Harry had flagged down a waitress for their order they launched into playful banter like long lost friends.  Louis couldn’t believe his eyes.

    Louis was still staring at Harry in disbelief when their drinks arrived. It wasn’t until he was about half way through it that he forgot why and dropped the pretense.  

            Harry was lively, funny, and engaging.  Between him and Niall, Louis had beer snort up his nose on more than one occasion. And his sides ached from laughing. He hardly even noticed the way that Liam was playing with Zayn’s hair. Or the way that Zayn was staring back at Liam so warmly that Louis’s own insides melted a little. Besides he was too drunk to recognize those signs anyway.

 

***

    Louis stumbled into some familiar looking wallpaper.  What the? He thought as a pair of warm hands guided him away from the wall.  

            His vision tipped the hallway. So for a minute Louis imagined he was in one of those mechanical fun houses.

    “Easy Tommo, we’re almost back to your apartment.” Harry’s husky voice drifted next to him.  His apartment. He was in the hallway to his apartment. That’s why the wallpaper looked familiar. 

            He had a vague memory of leaving Liam, Zayn, and Niall at the bar. Then telling a cab driver where he lived. But the rest was a fog. He couldn’t remember the ride over here, or even that Harry had tagged along.

    Louis looked over at Harry. Then said the first thing that came to his head. “You have a really beautiful face, did you know that?”

    Harry laughed, “I suppose my mum couldn’t have been lying every time.”

    “But you’re like more beautiful than that. Mum’s say that to their sons all the time. You’re really beautiful.”

    “Well thanks Lou, but which apartment is yours?” Harry said not at all as distracted as Louis was. Did he not know that he was beautiful?

    “17. No, 28. 17 was my other one,” Louis’s words slurred together, “How did we get here?”

    “We took a cab.” Harry said throwing Louis’s arm around his shoulders to guide Louis down the hall. “Do you have your key?”

    “Yup,” Louis burped, “In my pocket.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Harry as Harry leaned him against the wall.  Harry started to pat down Louis’s jeans, looking for the bulge of his keys.  Louis continued to babble on, “Buy a lad a drink if you’re gonna frisk him like that.”

    A smile broke across Harry’s face, “I already did.  Several actually.  That’s why you’re too pissed to open the door yourself.”

    “Am not,” Louis said grumbly.  He pushed Harry off him and fished the ring of keys out of his pocket.  His feet tried to tangle themselves in the carpet as he stepped in front of his door. He couldn’t get his key to slide into the latch. It kept sliding useless over the chrome knob.  He growled in frustration as Harry’s hand slide over his. Then tugged the set of keys out of his hand. “I can do it,” he whined.

    “I don’t doubt you.” Harry soothed tucking a lock of Louis’s hair behind his ear. “But it might go faster if you didn’t try to use your car key.”

    Harry selected a key that looked more like an apartment key. It slide gracefully into the lock. “Show off,” Louis grumbled as Harry pushed open the door.

    “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Harry said leading Louis through his own apartment. 

    Harry opened and closed doors looking for a bedroom. Louis found it hard to keep his stream of consciousness to himself.  “I don’t usually bring people back to my apartment. And never boys.”

    “Have you never brought a boy back to your place?” Harry teased, “You? A hot shot footballer?”

    Louis shook his head. Seductively he thought.  Sloppily to an outsider. “Boys just get you in trouble and break your heart. Girls are much safer.  But you’re different.  You’re Harry.”

    Harry laughed as he located Louis’s bedroom, “It’s true I am Harry.”

    “You just smell so good,” Louis said leaning on Harry. “I could just eat you up.” His teeth snapped on the air near Harry’s neck.

    “Alright Tiger, into bed.” Harry dropped Louis with a bounce onto his mattress.

    Harry’s face was near Louis’s crotch as he reached down to swing Louis’s legs up onto the mattress. “I had a sex dream about you,” Louis purred. “Started something like this you know.”

    Harry laughed and played along, his eyebrows waggling at Louis, “Was I any good?”

    Louis stuck his bottom lip out, “We didn’t get that far.”

    “We’ll have to remedy that.” Harry’s voice was husky and his nose was inches from Louis’s.  A few more inches and they could…

    Burrrrrrrppp. Louis belched in Harry’s face. Bursting the fragile moment they had been in.

Harry leaned back from Louis with a smile, “Louis you’re drunk.”

    “I am not!” Louis cried like a child told he couldn’t have dessert.

    “It would be wrong for me to take advantage of you like this,” Harry said standing up. “I”m going to get you a glass of water.”

    Louis whined from his throne of pillows as Harry went in search of a glass of water.  Some small corner of his brain told him that he wasn’t doing a good job at being seductive. But the drunk part of his brain was much whinier and had more sway.

    Harry returned with the tall glass of water and sat on the edge of the bed.  “Now I want you to drink all of it before I leave.” Harry said handing Louis the glass.

    “What do I get if I drink it all?” Louis said eyeing Harry.

    “How about I give you a kiss,” Harry said leaning toward Louis again. “But only if you finish it all.”

    Louis raised the glass to his lips. Holding eye contact with Harry as he drained the whole thing.  He smacked his lips with a sigh of contentment, “Where’s my kiss Harold?”

    Harry tucked a lock of Louis’s hair behind his ear and leaned closer to Louis.  Their noses were almost touching. Louis could feel the warm tickling sensation of Harry’s breath over his skin.  He could feel something building inside him. Bubbling up and up and then--

    Hiccup!  The diaphragm spasm broke the intimate bubble with a snicker from Harry.  He tipped Louis’s face down and planned a warm kiss on Louis’s forehead.  Louis whined at the friendly gesture, “That’s not what I wanted! I wanted it on the lips!”

    Harry snickered again, “You can have another kiss when you’ve been good. And that starts with you going to sleep.”

    Louis whined again but hunkered down into the pillows. Allowing Harry to pull the duvet over Louis and tuck him in.  Harry patted Louis’s head in a motherly way and said. “Now if you need anything, I’ll be on the couch.”

    “Anything?” Louis asked, implying something he wouldn’t ask from his mother.

    “Only if you’re really really good,” Harry said reading Louis’s mind. “Which mean sleeping through the night.”

    “You’re no fun,” Louis pouted as he snuggled further into his covers.

    “Good night Louis.”

    “Night Hazza.”

***

    Louis was lay still. Afraid to move.  He could feel that a headache was building between his temples. The dry taste in his mouth reminded him that he had been out drinking.  He groaned.  Maybe if he didn’t move he wouldn’t feel hung over.

    That, he discovered, was an impossible dream.  His stomach turned over the more he thought about it and he pitched his eyes tighter.

    For a moment he thought he had drifted off again. But the greasy smell of bacon tickled against his nose.  His dreams had always been vivid, but not that vivid.  Especially since he hadn’t been dreaming about bacon anyway.

    Louis forced himself to squint in the dimly lit room.  His blinds were closed so that only a sliver of light stretched across his bed.  With his eyes open he became more aware of his surroundings.  He could hear the faint hiss of bacon coming from outside his room in addition to the smell.  There was definitely bacon cooking nearby.

    Pieces of the night before came drifting back to him.  He had gone out drinking with Niall and Liam. Gotten drunk. Harry had taken him home.  Harry had taken him home.

    Louis’s whole body went rigid. Was Harry still here?  He didn’t really remember Harry leaving, so it was entirely possible.  But why would he stay?

    Louis slowly sat up. Careful to not upset his stomach or the slow throb in his temples.  His bare feet padded across the carpeted floor. He wondered if he had removed his shoes. Or had it been Harry.  Most of the night was still a fog.

    The large windows that had so attracted Louis to his apartment, now were a source of torture as he walked out into his living room.  He blinked his eyes. Adjusting to the bright light. The stab of pain behind his eyes told him that he wasn't completely successful.

    “Morning sleepy head,” Harry voice was raspy from sleep. Louis could hear the smile in his voice even though he still couldn’t see him.

    “Morning,” Louis’s voice was rough from the night of drinking.  He blindly pulled himself onto a stool at the breakfast bar. Then rest his forehead against his forearms with a groan.

    “Here,” Harry said nudging Louis’s shoulder, “Take these.”

    Louis lifted his head and got a real picture of the domestic Harry.  He had a towel thrown causally over his shoulder. Pills in one hand. Glass of water in the other.  With the light from the window his messy curls created a sort of halo around his head.  He was the angel every hung over man needed.

    Louis gratefully took the proffered medication and downed the glass of water.  Harry grinned and returned to his stove top, flipping over bacon using a fork.

    “What are you doing?” Louis asked appraising him.  He was liking the idea of having Harry in his kitchen. He looked comfortable there. Or at least much more comfortable than Louis had ever felt there.

    “I’m making bacon,” Harry explained simply, “Greasy food’s always good for a hang over. At least...if you can keep it down.”

    “Where did you find the bacon?” Louis asked as realization dawned on him.  He didn’t remember the last time he had gone grocery shopping.

    “Oh your housekeeper stopped by,” Harry said with a shrug. “She ran out to pick up some supplies . I mentioned that I didn’t know where the nearest Tesco was.  She was nice.”

    “The housekeeper got the bacon?” Louis asked slowly, his stomach sinking. What exactly had she seen?

    “She saw me sleeping on the couch. She assumed that you had forgotten to tell her you had guest coming over.” Harry said dropping a plate of bacon in front of Louis. “She said she could fix up a room, but I told her I wouldn’t be staying long.  She insisted on picking up some breakfast for us though. There’s eggs in the fridge if you want them. Oh! And she said she’d stop by tomorrow then, you know after I’ve left.”

    “Oh did she?” Louis could feel a pit growing in his stomach. What did his housekeeper think she had seen?  Would she say anything? He didn’t usually have company over.  What did she think of Harry? He hoped he didn't have to remind her of her confidentiality agreement.

    Harry was unaware of Louis tortured internal monologue.  He leaned across the breakfast bar chewing on a piece of bacon. “You should stop by my studio today. I could show you around my place.”

    “You’re studio?” Louis leaned back away from Harry’s advances. He didn’t trust himself around Harry so close. “I don’t know...I’m worried your paint fumes won’t be good for my hangover. I don’t think you’ll like me turning your art into Jackson Pollock knock-offs.”

    “Boooo,” Harry stuck out his lip in an exaggerated pout, “Another time then.”

    The two lads chewed their bacon in silence.  As the number of strips waned both started to chew slower.  They were suspended in a moment. One that would burst the second the last strip was consumed.  When the final strip lay between them they both stared at it knowing it was over.

    Harry stood up leaving the last strip untouched. “Well, I should head out if I plan to get any work done today. Let me know if you change your mind about coming to the studio. I’ll text you the address.”

    Without warning or preamble Harry leaned across the breakfast bar and kissed Louis lightly on the tip of his nose.  He didn’t look back over his shoulder as he turned from the flushed Louis and promptly let himself out.  Louis was too stunned to say anything.

    As the latch clicked behind Harry Louis set out a shaky breath.  Harry Styles had been in his kitchen.  Harry Styles had kissed him on the nose.  Had it not just happened Louis wouldn’t have believed such a thing were possible.

    Feeling like he needed to lie down, Louis made his way over to the couch.  Harry claimed he had slept there last night. Looking at it Louis couldn’t make out any discernible difference.  That was, until he flopped down on the downy cushions. It kicked Harry’s intoxicating scent up into the air.

    Louis hugged one of the pillows tight against his face. Inhaling Harry’s scent like a junky in need of a fix.  It was musky and yet almost floral?  Louis could imagine the warm scent coming off of Harry’s body. Like he had just stuffed his face into Harry neck.

    He was fucked, he admitted. He was totally fucked.

 

***

 

    Days passed and Louis didn’t hear Harry. He checked his phone like an obsession. He must have missed a call or text from him but nothing. Silence. What sort of game was Harry playing?

    Louis tried to throw himself into his team practices to distract himself. But he started to look for excuses to run back to the bench to check his phone.  He even called his carrier to make sure that his service was still running.  Everything checked out.

    During a scrimmage Louis’s mind kept going over ways he could causally text Harry. Maybe he could start up Harry’s favorite game: In your unbiased opinion… That always got Harry talking before. 

            But Louis wasn’t use to being the one to start conversations.  Harry had always beat him to the punch, and Louis had let him.  He hadn’t wanted to look too obvious. 

            It had been almost a week since Harry had been in Louis’s kitchen. Louis was starting to worry.

    Louis was tied up in his own thoughts when his teammates called a “heads up”. He had enough time to look up just in time to get of face full of checked ball.  

            He landed heavily onto his back. Laying stunned staring up at the bright stadium lights. The heads of his teams blocked some of the light as they gather in around him. Everyone buzzing with questions.

    One of the coaches appeared and sent the other lads on a lap around the perimeter of the stadium.  He extended his hand down to Louis and helped him up.  “You alright son?” his asked in a paternal tone.

    “Yeah I’m fine, just taken off guard.” Louis rubbed the back of his head embarrassed, “I should go join that lap with the lads—“

    “Not just yet,” his coach said, “We need to talk about some stuff first.”

    “Oh?” Louis stomach sank.

    “You’re distracted at practice,” the coach said tenderly. “And I was just wondering if you need…help.”

    “Help sir?” Louis could feel the blood drain out of his face. Oh no, did his coach know about…

    “Rehab?” His coach whispered to him, “Are you addicted to drugs lad?”

    Louis let out a nervous laugh, relieved, “I don’t do any drugs sir.”

    “Louis, your secret is safe with me,” his coach pressed on. “I don’t want you to get kicked out of the league for some poor decisions. I just want to help you. You’ve been distracted at practice and I’ve seen this happen before. I don’t want you to go down that path as well.”

    “Thanks sir,” Louis said, “But it’s not drugs. I’ve been distracted because…” Louis racked his brain for a reason. Clearly he couldn’t tell him that he had formed an obsession over some curly haired artist. There wasn’t a 12 step program in the world that could help him with that.  So he lied, “My mum has just been sick.  I’m worried about her is all.”

    “Oh lad, why didn’t you say anything?” the coach asked misty eyed, “I didn’t know your mum was sick. Is it cancer?”

    Louis decided to run with his lie, “Doctors don’t know yet.  They’re still doing tests. Guess I’m worried about her is all. I’m her son, I’m supposed to take care of her.”

    “That just terrible lad,” the coach said, “why don’t you take the rest of the day off. Call your mum. That’ll help clear your head.”

    “That’s generous sir, but I…”

    “My sister had cancer, it’s a tough time. Your mum will need all the support you can give her.” The coach patted him on the shoulder, “Just be back at practice tomorrow.”

    Louis headed back to the locker room grateful of the bullet he had just dodged. He had thought that he had been keeping it well under wraps but apparently he was wrong.  He needed to get his head back in the game if he was going to keep this a secret.

    Keep what a secret? A voice teased him inside his head. He doesn’t even text you.

    “Shut up,” Louis growled under his breath.  He changed quickly. He pitched his kit into his locker with an angry slam of the door. He needed to go outside.

    He walked at a brisk pace. It was a path he had taken a thousand times in his head. He hardly registered the beautiful sunlight or even the destination he had unconsciously planned. But his pulse jumped higher the closer he got to his destination.

    Rounding the corner, Louis was walking too fast to avoid the man juggling with his keys and grocery bags.  With an ooof they sandwiched the paper bag between then as they crashed together.

    “Sorry ‘bout that,” Louis found himself saying to the curly haired man. Then his brain registered who it was, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

    “Don’t worry ‘bout it mate,” Harry said jovially. Then his features morphed into a mask of surprise when he recognized Louis.

    Louis didn’t give either of them a chance to think. He grabbed hold of the front of Harry’s shirt and pulled him hard against himself. Their lips met in a near explosive collision and Louis’s brain went fuzzy.

    Kissing Harry was more than he had imagined it could be. It was like a chorus of angels belting out an opera. Combined with the fevered passion of a hundred guitar solos. Harry was warm and responsive in his arms. Having dropped his bag of groceries, his hands were fisting into Louis hair. The contact was like coming up for air after being underwater. Louis felt a release inside him that he hadn’t realized was blocked up.

    When they finally managed to break apart and come up for air, Harry laughed. Louis felt a twinge of shame in his belly at the sound. His face asked the question he was too embarrassed to ask. What’s so funny?

    “I thought I was supposed to tell you when you’d been good enough for a kiss.” Harry said, reminding Louis of his drunken night. “But I suppose you’ve been good enough.”

    “You hadn’t texted me.” Louis said lamely.

    “Oh!” Harry looked a bit ashamed, “I got so wrapped up in my project…I forgot to text you didn’t I?”

    Louis nodded, flushing. He felt a little like a high school girl for feeling so anxious. Of course he should have just assumed that Harry had other things to do besides text him. He did have a life after all.

    “Well since you’re here, why don’t you come inside?” Harry jerked his head toward the door they were standing by. Harry scooped up his bag and unlocked the door. “Come on,” he invited.

    Louis looked hesitantly over his shoulder.  He shouldn’t let himself give in to this particular forbidden fruit.  Someone could see him go into Harry’s place. And if they recognized him they might decide to cash in on their 15 minutes of fame. Rat on him to the tabloids.

    “I don’t know...” Louis was getting more nervous by the second. He had spent too long just standing outside Harry flat.  Someone was going to notice he was just standing there.  They were going to attract notice.  They were--

    “Come on!” Harry grabbed hold of Louis’s hand and yanked him into his small studio.

    Louis stood frozen in the entryway watching as Harry fluttered about the space.  He locked the door, drew blinds, and double checked through the peek hole on the door.  Once he was satisfied he turned to Louis, “We’re in the clear.”

    Louis stared at Harry blankly.  He felt frozen to the spot, his mouth hanging open.  We’re in the clear.  We’re in the clear. We’re in the clear. He repeated it like a mantra.

    Harry stepped up to Louis, his hands hovering tentatively over Louis’s chest.  His voice was a warm whisper over Louis’s skin, “We’re safe. We’re in the clear.”

    Something snapped in Louis.  In one fluid movement he reached up on his tip toes and bridged the gap between them.  The angels and guitars were back, and the contact caused his blood to turn molten.

    Suddenly the innocent contact turned anything but. Harry’s tongue plunged into Louis mouth with such force Louis had to hold onto Harry’s shirt for stability.  Their tongues tangled together like they were starved for one another.

    Their fingers fumbled over each other’s bodies as they thirsted for contact. It was like they were aware of how fragile the moment was. Any second could be the last and they wanted to make the most of it.  They were like teenagers worried parents were about to separate them.

    Louis tugged Harry’s shirt up.  He just wanted to feel Harry’s warm skin against his own. Commit it all to memory.  Harry’s skin was impossibly soft. The tickling of hair against his palm was doing strange things to his heart rate.

    Taking his cue from Louis, Harry yanked Louis’s shirt up and over his head. It was demanding, but Louis was glad of it. He wanted someone to take charge of this. He couldn’t do this on his own.

    Harry pulled his shirt over his head and then suddenly they were skin to skin.  Harry’s body was warm and soft, but also strong and rigid. They were pressed hipbone to clavicle, and it wasn’t enough.

    Louis made an involuntary groan. He wanted more. He needed more. And somehow Harry understood.

    Harry steered Louis toward a low tattered couch in the middle of the room.  Their shins bashed against furniture that neither of them could see. Neither did they care. 

    They toppled over onto couch. Louis sandwiched between a paint stained cushion and a topless Harry Styles. And it had never been happier.

    Harry’s teeth scraped along Louis’s chest. Then he kissed down to his nipple, his actions too fast paced to control.  Louis breath hissed between his lips as Harry’s tongue swirled around his aureola.

    “I want...” Louis’s strangled voice was barely louder than the breathy sounds coming from Harry.

    Harry was panting when he looked up at Louis. His cheeks flushed, his eyes sparkling. Those delicious pink lips of his curved into a smile when he asked, “What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

    Harry’s hands were laying hot and ready on Louis’s abdomen. It was straight out of his fantasy.  “You,” Louis rasped, “All of you. Everything. Please.”

    There was a mischievous glint in Harry’s eyes before he locked lips with Louis’s. The intensity and heat was back as they struggled out of the remainder of their clothes.  Louis nearly wept with ecstasy when his erection bobbed free.

    Louis broke away from Harry’s lips with only a trace of reluctance.  He wanted to sear the feeling of Harry’s skin into his lips forever.  He had just decided to explore the sensitive curve of Harry’s neck when he felt Harry's cock press against his thigh. It was entirely unfair.

    They were just rubbing against each other like a pair of giddy teenagers.  They had been so interested in their hasty explorations of each other, they hadn’t even committed to finishing anything. Kissing, biting, rubbing against each other still held too much appeal.

    Soon neither could stand much longer. A silence command passed between them and Harry grabbed hold of Louis’s cock.  Harry hand started to pump along Louis’s length, and Louis’s breath hitched in his throat.

    Louis felt like his insides were deliciously twisting up inside.  His toes curled under as he felt an intense pressure build in his belly. He was trembling and leaking, when the thought occurred to him. What about Harry?

    “Don’t worry about me,” Harry panted. His cock was pressing and working along the apex of Louis’s thigh. “Let go.”

    So Louis did. The spasm rocked Louis’s body and shattered his composure. It was like a thousand tiny pleasurable waves were crashing along the length of his body.  His toes curled, his spine arched, and he sucked in a gasp like he had just come up for air.

    Louis buried his nose into Harry’s neck and bit down on his shoulder. Riding out the aftershocks. Harry wasn’t far behind him. Before Louis had come down from his high Harry was shuttering on top of Louis. Collapsing in a heap onto Louis’s chest.

    They lie still on top of one another. Just the sound of their heavy breathing filled the small space.  There was a peace in lying there. Talking would only bring them crashing back to reality. And reality was something that Louis wasn’t comfortable with.

    The intimacy of the moment became too much for Louis. Defensively he switched on the humor. “So I guess I should stop wondering if you’re into me,” he said flippantly.

    Harry laughed. A body shaking laugh that started deep in his belly. And because of their proximity, it echoed through Louis as well. It was hard not to laugh in return. The joy Harry was emitting was radioactive and contagious.

    “I’m more than a little into you,” Harry propped his chin on Louis’s chest. His grin was mischievous and yet sincere. The sincerity knocked Louis off his defensive sarcasm. A pleasant warm glow bubbled in his chest.

    Harry continued to stare at him like he was some special thing. Even after he pushed himself up and off of Louis. He strut naked as the day he was born over to the small kitchenette Louis hadn’t noticed in preceding moments.  He grabbed two cokes from the refrigerator and brought them back for Louis.

    Harry was completely comfortable with his nudity. Which reminded Louis that he too was nude. He grabbed the one of the coach pillows and covered himself with it.

    Harry handed him the coke and Louis found he couldn’t make eye contact with Harry anymore. “I don’t normally do...stuff like this.” he mumbled rolling the can in his hands to distract himself. Then set it down.

    “What? Drink coke after sex?” Harry teased him. 

            Louis blushed. Harry was gloriously naked. His body was fluid and gracefully draped against the coach like he had been divined by some renaissance painter.  A renaissance painter that spent his time around well endowed men, Louis thought and then blushed harder.

    Louis didn’t know how to say it. Have sex with men. But somehow that unspoken thought was transferred to Harry and he nodded, taking a long sip of his coke.

    “Wanna see something I’ve been working on?” Harry suddenly perked up, an excited little puppy again.  He hopped up from the coach and grabbing Louis’s hand, pulled him along with him.

     Louis continued to hold the pillow as Harry guided him around the small studio space. His mood was contagious. Louis found himself relaxing as Harry excitedly showed him half completed pieces.  

            Seeing an artist’s workspace was like peering into their soul. Harry’s was happy and energetic and colorful. 

            Harry kept apologizing for the mess. Louis’s apartment had been almost clinically clean, but Louis found the clutter almost soothing. It was easy to forget about the outside world in here. Harry’s being was splashed all around the room and that made him feel safe. Harry could keep him safe.

    They talked about Harry’s art and Louis’s football, then they ordered chinese food. Louis had to stop Harry from answering the door naked. To which Harry dutifully tied on an apron and told Louis with shrug, “It’s happened before.”

    They were laughing over some story Harry was telling. About being a nude model while in university that it struck Louis. “What’s with all the paper planes then?”

    Harry chewed thoughtfully on his egg roll and shrugged, “I don’t know. It happened sort of by accident. I guess.”

    “An accident? Your greatest inspiration was an accident?” Louis couldn’t believe it.

    Harry chuckled and ruffled his hair. Louis could get use to that sight. His curls tossing about in some a carefree way, much like Harry himself.

    “I was in university,” Harry started. “And we were supposed to have come up with  our ideas for our final projects.”

    “Let me guess,” Louis teased, “You didn’t have one.”

    Harry grinned, a tad ashamed, “No. I had put it off all term. Then the night before our pitches to the class were due...I went out with a couple of girls.”

    “My my Styles, you are the worst student I’ve ever heard of.” Louis poked Harry with his toe.

    “I had been hoping for inspiration to strike.” Harry defended. “But somehow strobe lights and booze were not as inspiring as I had hoped.”

    “I could have told you that,” Louis said slurring up a noodle.

    “I was a kid! You have stupid ideas when you’re a kid.” Harry laughed. “So anyway there I am. Sitting in class. Sweating over whether I’m going to flunk out of art school when I’m this close to graduating.” He held up his pinched fingers to Louis.

    “So what did you do?”

    “Well when I get nervous. I fiddle.” Harry picked up a scrap piece of paper off the coffee table. “I’m just folding paper airplanes in the back of the class. Trying to think of an idea that won’t make me the laughing stock of the art department. When my name gets called.”

    Louis watched as Harry folded the paper into a paper plane, absorbed in Harry’s story. “So I walk up to the front of the class and I’ve got this paper plane in my hand. I don’t really remember what happens after. I sort of...just start talking.” Harry smiles at the memory, “I go on about the fragility of paper planes. How you only get a peek at what’s happening inside. Something about how you never know where they’re going to land. You know, them being free spirits or something.”

    “So did you pass?” Louis asked, anxious about the future of the younger Harry he’d never met.

    “Yeah,” Harry smirks at Louis. “I spent the rest of the term incorporating paper planes into everything I worked on. Then I became sort of obsessed with them, and now...here we are. Monet had his lilies, I have paper planes.”

    The two boys laughed at the absurdity of Harry’s last statement. When their laughter started to subside Louis asked, “So all your supposed genius, is an accident?”

    “I’d say a lot of life’s greatest things stem from accidents,” Harry’s said slowly. “Like divine intervention. Sometimes accidents aren’t accidents after all.”

    Louis slurred up another noodle, dribbling soy sauce down his bare chest. “I don’t think this would get counted in the table of ‘artist genius’” Louis pointed to the dark smear.

    “Now I wouldn’t say that,” Harry said huskily as he leaned over Louis’s chest. His hot pink tongue poked out and he lazily stroked up Louis’s chest, clearing the mess.

    Oh God, Louis thought hazily as he let Harry stir up those most unholy feelings. Harry definitely was an artist, and Louis wasn’t just counting his skill with the brush.

***

    Louis felt liquid. It was as if his skin was the only thing keeping his insides from turning into a Louis puddle. But that’s what happened when you were as well sexed as he was, Louis mused.

    It had maybe been a day or two since he first come over to Harry’s house. Between eating, sleeping, and other necessities it had been a nonstop carnival of pleasure. Mostly because Harry was entirely too generous.

    Louis lay staring up at the industrial ceiling of Harry’s studio. Harry dozing next to him, and contemplated the last time he had been this well sexed. Probably never, he thought grinning.

    Lying on Harry’s futon was probably the freest he had ever felt. It was definitely the most nude he’d ever been.  The last time he had ever felt close to this had been...

    Stan. The blood froze in Louis’s bloodstream. Oh how quickly he was willing to forget the mistakes of his past. How could he let his guard down for even a moment when doing just that had nearly cost Stan his life?

    Louis sprang into action. His startled movement woke Harry out of his lazy snooze. “What are you doing?” Harry asked lazily, his voice rough from sleep...and blow jobs.

    Louis tugged his shirt on over his head.  He couldn’t find his pants. He needed to leave and he couldn’t find his pants. He decided to forgo the pants when he found his jeans in a heap by the coach.

    “I just remembered I left the oven on.” Louis lied, “And my plants need watering.”

    “You have plants?” Harry rubbed at his eyes groggily.

    “Yes, and they’ll be dying to see me.” Louis stumbled as he pulled on his shoe, “I’ll call you.”

    Louis barely registered the surprised look on Harry’s face before he dashed out the door. He didn’t take any detours this time. Deciding along the way that it was best if he got home as soon as possible. His imaginary plants needed him.

    He was out of breath when he burst into his apartment. With military precision he swept through his house. He made sure the doors and windows were locked. The security system was on. Checked under beds and in unused rooms for uninvited guests.

    His phone buzzed with a call from Harry. Which he ignored as he ran through his apartment. Trying to make it look less like he had just spent the last 48 hours locked in another man’s embrace. He ruffled the bedsheets to look slept in. Crumpled up the newspapers from the last to days to look like he read them. He contemplated looking up some porn to make his interest history look more hetreo. He had done it before.

    He decided against the porn. But only because it’s more important for him to shower. He reeked of Harry. He couldn’t go around smelling like some other man. Especially when he had dropped off radar for a couple of days. People would make assumptions, and assumptions were dangerous.

    But standing in the stray of his shower Louis felt a twinge of regret as he washed Harry down the drain. He wanted to lock that smell into his nostrils and keep it there for all time. Then the image of Stan’s face popped into his head and he scrubbed until his skin was pink.

    His hair still dripping down his back, Louis surveyed his apartment. Everything was in order. Or rather the disorder that accompanied occupation of a space. Now all he needed was an alibi. He could drive up to see Eleanor. Maybe he should check into a rehab facility. Both had the discretion to hide that he hadn’t been with them all weekend.

    A knock at the door nearly scared Louis out of his skin. He hide behind a wall as if the peek hole on his door worked both ways. They had come for him, he could feel it.

    “Louis?” a familiar voice called, “Are you in there? It’s Harry.”

    Oh god, Harry couldn’t be in here. His presence would undo everything that he had just done. Maybe if he just ignored Harry he would go away. Please go away, he begged Harry with his mind.

    Harry continued to knock, “Louis? It’s Harry.”

    The longer Harry stood outside, the more nervous Louis became. Finally Louis decided that it would be safer to let Harry in, rather than let him make a scene out in the hallway. His neighbors might decide to call the super.

    Louis opened the door and pulled Harry in.  Harry peppered him with questions. What happened? Why wasn’t he answering his phone? Why did he leave so suddenly? But Louis was busy checking that the coast was clear out his peek hole. When he decided that it was, he turned to Harry.

    “What are you doing here?” Louis hissed to keep his voice down.

    “You weren’t answering my calls,” Harry took his cue from Louis and kept his voice down, “Why did you leave?”

    “I had to,” Louis replied, “Now can you please leave? And keep your voice down.”

    “Why are we keeping are voices down?” Harry asked.

    “So that no one can hear us.” Louis explained, annoyed, “No one can know you’re here.”

    “Why can’t anyone know I’m here?” Harry asked his voice at a normal volume again, “Are you ashamed of me?”

    “Yes--NO!” Louis quickly corrected, “But no can know about you. So you have to leave.”

    “I don’t understand, are you or aren’t you ashamed of me? Is it because I’m an artist? Are you afraid that your footie friends will look down on you?”

    “No I’m just--”

    “Is it because I don’t have any money? I didn’t think something like that mattered to you--”

    “That’s not it--”

    “I was just some dumb hook-up wasn’t I? You think you can just use people as--”

    “IT’S NOT SAFE!” Louis suddenly snapped. The two boys stared at each other. Louis’s outburst echoed off the cement walls of his modern apartment.

    “What?” it was Harry that whispered.

    “It’s not safe for us to be seen together.” Louis’s voice trembled as he fought to control his emotions.

    “Why isn’t it?” Harry voice was low and tender, and suddenly Louis didn’t want to hide it from Harry.

    “People can’t find out I’m...gay. It’ll just end up hurting us both.” He finally said.

    Then it all just started to bubble up like word vomit. And Louis couldn’t stem the flow of words. He had been young when he had fallen for his friend Stan. They both had been. But when kids had found out they had been bullied. At it’s worst their car had been run off the road one night. Stan spent 4 days in the hospital.

    “When Stan was well enough his parents sent him to a facility. For treatment, they said. But everyone knew what that meant. Mum and Dad fought over what to do with me. Mum didn’t want me to go, Dad didn’t want a queer for a son. So I threw myself into football,” Louis said with a sniff. “Dad quickly forgot the whole mess when I started winning trophies. Queers don’t win games he said.”

    “Oh Louis,” Harry said rubbing Louis’s back. At some point they had migrated to Louis’s couch.

    “So now, I don’t...indulge. Because footballers aren’t gay. So I can’t be gay. So whatever you think this is, can’t happen.” Louis said gesturing between him and Harry. “I can never go out with you, so if that’s what you’re looking for you’ll have to go. It would ruin me.”

    Now at the end of his story Louis realized that he was crying. Tears and snot streamed endless down his face as he dredged up the toughest parts of his childhood. He couldn’t blame Harry if he never wanted to shag Louis ever again. Hell he would never shag him again if he was in Harry’s spot. Who could be sexually attracted to this blubbery mess with a whole lot of daddy issues? That was a lot of baggage to sign up for.

    But even under Louis’s intense scrutiny, he couldn’t find any sign that Harry was about to run. He didn’t look like he was looking for an exit, he looked like he wanted to give Louis a hug.

    Then he did hug him, “Oh Lou, that’s terrible. No one should have to go through that.”

    Louis was conscious of the fact that his tears were soaking into Harry’s shirt, but Harry didn’t make any move to pull away. He just continued to rub Louis’s back comfortingly.

    When he did pull away it was so that he could look in Louis’s eyes. “I was blessed in that I never had to hide who I am from the people that I love. Boys. Girls. My mum and dad didn’t care. My sister only cared when those girls were her friends.”

    That last one got a small laugh out of Louis, which caused Harry to smile at the sound. “Now I don’t have a lot of experience with this’s.” Harry mirrored the gesture Louis had made, pointing between them. “But I like you, and I want to continue to see you.”

    “But what about--” Louis started, his concerns for Harry bubbling up.

    Harry cut him off, “I don’t need any labels Louis. This doesn’t have to be a this.  I don’t need some big media junction announcing to the world what we are. I don’t need you to choose between your future and me. You don’t need to do that for me. I just want fun and easy. And of course, as much sex as we can handle.”

    Louis laughed again. It all sounded so innocent. So easy. It sounded like something he could handle. And if he was being honest with himself, he liked the idea of not having to give up Harry quite yet.

    “Okay, we can continue to see each other. But you have to follow my rules: No PDA. No telling people. This had to remain a secret. From everyone.” Louis tried to end firmly, but he was  just relieved at having told someone his story.

    “All right! From everyone,” Harry agreed.

    “All right, good.” Louis sighed, “Now you have to leave.”

    “What? Why?” Harry looked taken aback.

    “Well number one, I have to clean my apartment,” Louis gestured around him. They both knew he was lying, he had housekeeper after all, but Harry kindly let him have his lie. 

    “And number two, you’ve literally seen me at my worst now.” Louis gestured to his tear stained face and puffy face. “So if I have any hopes you’ll ever shag me again, you need to leave before this is seared into your eyes forever.”

    “I think you look fine,” Harry said leaning toward Louis like he was going to kiss him.

    Louis lightly pushed Harry away, “And we need to spend time apart anyway. To hush up any potential media buzzes. Everyone will want to know who my new friend is.”

    Harry smiled knowingly at Louis but nodded in agreement. “All right, I’ll keep my distance.”

    Harry swung forward and planted a swift kiss on Louis’s surprised lips before he stood up to leave.

    Louis watched as Harry sauntered toward the door. That boy really had it in for him. With his hand on the knob Harry turned back towards Louis one last time, “Call me when we’re out of the woods.”

***

    Louis’s foot tapped against the arm of the couch. He felt like an addict. He was laying facedown on the couch and his fingers were itching to text Harry. It had only been 2 days.

    Harry had done as Louis instructed and not contacted him. Louis told him he’d call him when they were in the clear. But now he wasn’t sure if he could make it much longer.

    Louis wasn’t use to denying himself a lot of vices. Except where Harry was concerned. So he figured it wouldn’t be wrong of him to just check his phone for an update.

    Without any new texts or missed messages, Louis turned to twitter. He just wanted to see what Harry was up to. See if he was in as much torture as Louis was.

    There was only one new tweet from Harry. He was inviting volunteers to come out to help paint the mural he was working on. He gave the times and location, and that was it. 

    No confession of how his skin was crawling without Louis. Not that Louis wanted that. That would only make hiding Harry more complicated. But there was a small part of Louis that was disappointed. He wanted Harry to feel just as tortured as him. He felt smug as he noted the radio silence over the days that he and Harry and been entwined.

    Louis still wasn’t satisfied. Seeing Harry’s characters on his phone screen wasn’t soothing the itch he felt. If he could just see Harry. Even from a distance. That would help.

    Before Louis could think of logical alternative, he had shrugged on his hoodie and was out the door. The mural was only a couple of tube stops away.

           The buzz of activity intensified the closer Louis got to the worksite. Volunteers of all ages were milling about with paint brushes and smocks looking for direction. Louis was indistinguishable amongst them. Harry however wasn’t.

            Harry was standing near the base of the mural, looking very much like a carefree artist. He was wearing paint smearing tight black pants, low heeled boots, and a loose fitting white t-shirt. He had tied back his hair with a ridiculously vibrant scarf. Louis couldn’t decide if it was stylish or bizarre. It did however look like a Styles choice.

            From his hiding place behind a cement pillar, Louis had an excellent vantage point to watch Harry. He was close enough to see the tendons in Harry’s arm each time he reached above his head to paint the section he was working. He could see Harry laugh with the woman next to him when a drip of paint landed on his sunglasses. It was tempting to join in. If he wasn’t trying to keep his distance from Harry.

            Louis wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there. But he realized that he should leave before anyone recognized the tell-tale signs of his stalking. Checking that his sunglasses and hood were on, he turned to leave. Right into a man carrying several small pails of paint.

            It was a comical explosion of rainbow, as the paint splattered across both individuals. Louis stared down at his now wildly colored sweatshirt in disbelief. Before he had been just another smudge of grey in London’s backdrop. Now he looked a postmodern art installation. Hardly subtle.

            “Louis?” the familiar voice was coming from the man that had run into him.

            “Liam?” Louis asked just as surprised to see his teammate.  Suddenly they were speaking together.

            “What are you doing here?”

            “Me? What are you doing here?!”

            The crowd around them had started to grow from the minute they had comically crashed into one another. The reasons both Louis and Liam were there appeared to sort out the mess.

            “Liam are you all right?” Zayn’s concerned face appeared through the throng.

            “I’m fine,” Liam said flushing a little when Louis gave him a knowing look. “Did make a proper mess though.”

            “It’s fine, we have plenty of paint.” Zayn used his thumb to wipe paint off Liam’s cheek. Liam flushed more at the contact.

            “What’s going on over here?” Harry’s cheerful voice drifted to Louis’s ears. It was his turn to blush.

            “We had a bit of a run in.” Liam explained, picking up the fallen pails. “Nothing ruined but our pride and clothes.”

            “I see,” Harry said grinning like an idiot at Louis. Louis couldn’t help but return it, even though he could feel his cheeks and ears heating up as well.

            “All right everyone back to work!” Harry gave a terrible impression of a Union leader, his hands waving wildly around him like that added emphasis.

            As the crowd dispersed Harry mirrored the intimate gesture Zayn had done for Liam. Wiping some of the dripping paint off of Louis’s fringe. Louis could feel his mouth run dry as Harry continued to give Louis a warm smile. He hardly noticed Liam and Zayn wander off, their heads leaded intimately close.

            “Stalker much?” Harry teased, “I was expecting a call first.”

            “Stalker? Me?” Louis scoffed at the idea. “No I was…I’m an avid tube rider, and I wanted to check out the art installation. I wouldn’t want to be blinded by…terrible art.”

            “Sure,” Harry smirked. Clearly he didn’t believe Louis. So Louis decided to try a different tactic.

            “And!” Louis continued, “I need to pick up more volunteer hours for the team. I saw this on twitter. Someone else’s twitter. And I wanted to check it out. See if it was worth doing.”

            Harry reached toward his back pocket and pulled out a paint brush. “Why don’t you put your money where your volunteer mouth is?” Harry said pushing the brush into Louis’s hand.

            “Fine,” Louis called Harry’s bluff, at least he thought it was a bluff. “I will.”

            Louis took off in the direction of the mural. Harry close behind him trying to not to giggle. Once at the wall Louis suddenly realized that he didn’t have any direction. He didn’t want to ruin the hard work of everyone else by messing it up. Harry seemed to sense this and handed Louis a small pail of yellow paint.

            “We marked out the outlines of the design. Just paint in the lines. You’ll be fine,” Harry added a smile at the end, seeing that Louis was nervous.

            The first brush stroke on the cement wall sent a nervous shiver up Louis’s spine. As much as Harry was assuring him that he wouldn’t mess up, there was still a pressure to get it right. It was after all, Harry’s mural they were working on.

            Louis was startled by the sensation of paint flicked onto his face. A look at Harry told Louis that he was the perpetrator. His face was twisted up from trying to hold in a smile, and in his hand was the smoking gun. The paint brush.

            Then Harry started to laugh. Which in turn made Louis laugh. The nervous energy he had felt came bubbling up and dispersed like fog on a sunny day.  When he regained control of his giggles he loaded up his own paint brush and flicked it at Harry.

    Louis wished he had a camera to take a picture of Harry’s face. It was all beaming surprise.  His eyes were wide as his mouth was, though it was clear it was holding back a smile.

    “Oh you’re on Tommo.” Harry dipped his hand into the pail of paint. Before Louis could react Harry combed his fingers through Louis’s fringe. Spiking them up in a blue faux-hawk.

    Louis couldn’t believe Harry and said so. Then he loaded up his brush with more yellow paint and drew a heart on Harry’s cheek. He hadn’t realized what he was doing until it was already done. Though it wasn’t regret that he felt, it was pride.

    “Oy! Don’t use up all the paint on yourselves,” they heard Zayn teasingly chastise them.

    Louis and Harry tried to pin on shamed faces, but their snickering ruined the effect. The effect was also ruined by a certain boy from Wolverhampton painting a line of red straight down Zayn’s chest. They all doubled over with laughter.

    When they managed to turn back to their work, Harry had sidled closer to Louis. For once Louis wasn’t worried about what people would think. He had never let himself let go like this in public before. It felt so...freeing.

    Louis stretched to reach the top section of the yellow shape he was painting. He braced his free hand against a dry section of the wall to keep himself from toppling over. While he was focused elsewhere, he felt the distinctive sensation of a wet brush drawing on the back of his hand.

    Without even looking at it he knew what it was. A warm sensation unlike anything he had felt flowed out from the center of his chest. He had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling too hard.

    When he did look down at his hand, Harry was peeking at him out of the corner of his eye. Louis smiled down at the shape and he knew that Harry could see because he was smiling too. Something had changed between when Harry had painted it.

    A little blue heart.

 

***

 

    “Lou,” Harry panted, “I don’t think I can it much longer.”

    “Just a. Little. Longer.” Louis grunted as he thrust deeper into Harry. It was taking a lot of concentration to work Harry’s cock with his hand while simultaneously pumping his own length in and out of Harry. This kind of coordination would have impressed a gymnast.

    The tension deep in Louis’s belly was building to a fevered high, he was getting close. But the look on Harry’s face made him want to preserve this moment forever. Harry’s head was thrown back wildly against the pillows of Louis’s bed. His curls tossed every which way. Some laying across his face. His mouth was gasping open, framed by those erotically pink lips. More so, because he was flushed from the roots of his hair to his first set of nipples. Because of course someone as perfect as Harry would have a flaw like an extra set of nipples.

    “Louis I--” Harry was cut off by a sharp intake of his own breath. His hips bucked against Louis’s. Louis could feel the shiver of pleasure go up and down Harry’s legs just before his own release seized him.

    He spasmed against Harry, forcing himself to continue pumping in and out of Harry to prolong the pleasure for both of them. Which, based on the fact that Harry was holding onto the duvet for dear life as his body continued to spasm, was still working.

    Louis drooped onto Harry’s sweaty chest. The waves of intense pleasure started to subside. He could still feel some of the aftershocks still shivering inside him. He wanted to bask in the glow. Plus he could hear Harry’s heart hammering just as hard as Louis’s was, and Louis was taking it as a form of applause.

    “I can’t feel my legs,” Harry sighed wistfully.

    Louis chuckled, “I think my bones have turned into jello.”

    “I like jello.” Harry hummed, and Louis like the way Harry’s voice vibrated through his diaphragm.

    The two lads lay in companionable silence, their breathing still coming in pants. Their limbs were hanging limply beside them, their fingers loosely intertwined.  With a contented sigh Louis lifted his hand and made a grabby hand toward the tissue box on the bedside table.

    “Hand me a tissue please,” Louis said, “You came all over my hand.”

    Harry had the grace to blush as he handed Louis the tissue box, “Sorry Lou.”

    “It’s alright Hazza, I like that I make you lose control.” Louis smiled mischievously at Harry before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

    “I like it when I do the same thing to you,” Harry said stretching languidly. “What was that thing with the teeth anyway?”

    “Teeth? What are you talking about?” Louis chuckled, remembering.

    “My love bite right here.” Harry said pointing to the light bruising next to one of his extra nipples. “I mean I was into it but...I can’t believe you did that.”

    “Well I can’t believe you tried to bend my leg back like that,” Louis teased back. “Unlike you I am not some rubber band. I don’t snap back into place. I mostly just snap.”

    “Like you weren’t begging me to suck you off harder,” Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “You would have taken off my head with that kicker leg of yours.”

    “That might be true, but how am I supposed to explain to Liam why my hip flexor is out of commission? How will I explain it to England?” Louis said pressing a kiss to Harry’s chest.

    “Simple, you just explain to Liam exactly what happened. You might have to do a little reacting, but try not to make Zayn jealous.” Harry smirked.

    “Behave,” Louis playfully smacked Harry’s chest. As they both giggled at the idea of role playing their sex lives to their dear friends.

    As their giggles subsided, it was Harry that spoke, “Louis, I want you to meet my mum.”

    “Wait, what?” Louis’s question come out sounding half strangled.

    “My mum’s going to be in town next week, and I want you meet her.” Harry repeated gently.

    Louis pushed up onto his forearms to get a better look at Harry’s face.  His face was still playful, but there was something in his eyes that told Louis just how seriously he felt about the topic.

    “I don’t know,” Louis started hesitantly, “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

    “Why wouldn’t it be?” Harry’s face was starting to lose it’s playfulness. This was important to him, Louis could tell. But that didn’t make it any easier for Louis.

    “It’s just that it’s pretty...serious.” Louis grimacing. He didn’t know how to voice his feelings, but that most certainly wasn’t it.

    “Well...aren’t we?” Harry asked quietly, and the look on his face pulled at Louis’s heart strings. Harry’s face had attempted to pull a cheeky grin, but his features were twisted with insecurity.  Even Harry’s dimple managed to look insecure, and Louis had a weakness for Harry’s dimple.

    Louis let out a sigh, resigned to his fate, “When does your mother come to town?”

    “What? You’ll do it?”

    “I’ll do it. I’ll meet your mother.” Louis peeked up at Harry through the veil of his lashes.

    “Really?” Harry’s voice had gone up an octave. A smile broke through the cloud of insecurity and to Louis it was like looking at the sun.  It was blinding and contagious, and it made Louis’s own worries disappear. And the dimple was back to being cute.

    “Really,” Louis said returning Harry’s smile, “Though this is starting to feel really this-ish.”

    Harry laughed out loud at the gesture Louis made, pointing between the two of them. It was a causal reminder of all that had grown between them.  In a fluid motion Harry rolled them over so that he was on top, snuggled between Louis’s legs.

    Harry was smiling down at Louis like he was something infinitely precious. For that fragile moment Louis actually believed him. It was hard not to feel valuable under Harry’s warm gaze.

    “This looks pretty this-ish.” Harry said with a smirk pointing between them like Louis had done. “You were in me not five minutes ago.”

    Harry planted a quick kiss on Louis’s lips before they both laughed at Harry’s blunt statement. It was sort of ridiculous, Louis admitted, that he hadn’t thought just how involved they’d become.

    “So what does that make you?” Louis asked teasingly, “My boyfriend?”

    Harry pretended to ponder the question, tapping his finger on his chin. Then he grinned widely down at Louis and said, “Yes.”

    Harry buried his face into Louis’s neck playfully nipping at the sensitive skin. Louis giggled because he was ticklish and because he was giddy from Harry’s proclamation.

    But somewhere deep in his gut, a feeling of dread was brewing.

 

***

 

    Louis’s mind was caught on an endless loop as he nervously shopped before meeting Harry’s mother. Should he bring chocolates? Maybe a silk scarf? A bottle of wine? That would be inappropriate. They were just meeting for coffee...But what the hell was he supposed to do?

    Then the loop jumped track and settled in a different loop. They were a this now? When did this happen? How did this happen? Why the hell did he think going to Fortnum and Mason would be a good idea? There were ridiculous things here. Especially for meeting your boyfriend’s mother.

    Louis replayed the last several months on fast forward. Trying to pinpoint the exact moment that this had happened. But that was nearly impossible to pinpoint. It seemed like Harry had just causally waltzed into his life one day. And somehow managed to bury under Louis’s skin without him noticing. 

    One minute they were just texting about pointless stuff and then they were suddenly a this. Sure they’d had sex pretty early on. But sex didn’t mean anything, Louis had had causal sex plenty of time before. He had been having meaningless sex with Eleanor for months before he even knew who Harry was. So what had happened?

    One day they were boning and then the next...Harry had wanted to show Louis his favorite movie. So of course Louis reciprocated. It was the polite thing to do, he decided as he put down an overpriced journal. 

    Louis lined up all the pleasantries they had exchanged. They brought each other wine or take out food, whatever would cheer up the other. Louis had bought cough syrup when Harry had been sick. Harry had given Louis a key to his studio. He was often distracted while he was creating his art. Louis didn’t like to be left outside.

    Then there was the airplane necklace. Harry had given it to him the night they had gotten drunk on wine and each other’s company. They had moved all Louis’s furniture so they could dance around his living room. When they had collapsed heaving onto the floor Harry had asked him to wear it. Louis’s heart did flips every time he saw it.

    In the present, Louis’s phone buzzed. It was a text from Harry, reminding him not to be nervous because his mother would love him. The simple gesture calmed Louis. 

    Out of the corner of his eye Louis saw someone grinning like an idiot down at his phone. He looked up to see what poor sap was caught in love’s tangled web. What he saw surprised him.

    He was looking at his own stunned expression in a polished silver platter. And in that moment he realized just how much he had been lying to himself.

 

***

 

    Louis heels bounced off the floor with nerves as he waited for Harry’s mother. He fidgeted with his sunglasses, trying to decide if he should put them back on. His nerves were manifesting as his old fears of being caught by the paparazzi. He hadn’t seen any photographers. But that didn’t mean there weren’t any lurking in the shadows.

    His fears weren’t entirely unfounded. He had seen his picture in a couple of newspapers after he started volunteering with Harry at the paint site. He had been lucky that none of them had included Harry. And lucky none of them had mentioned the hearts Harry tended to paint on him. But luck had a tendency to run out when it was most inconvenient.

    Louis started to feel sick with nerves. He was going to throw up, he was sure of it. He should call Harry and tell him that he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to throw up on his mum. Today was just not going to work.

    At that moment, Harry’s mum walked in. Louis had never seen a picture of Harry’s mother, but he recognized her instantly. She had Harry’s cheeks and chin. But it was all the sunlight and maternal love radianting from her pores that he recognized most.

    Louis stood up on a reflex to greet Harry’s mum, hearing the echo of his own mum telling him to be polite. He was just sticking out his hand for a handshake when she pulled him into a tight hug. It’s warm and friendly and it makes Louis’s heart ache for his own mother just a little. Of course this was Harry’s mother. Who else could have made Harry so comfortable with himself? Louis felt more at ease the more he recognized Harry within her.

    “So you’re the boy that stole my little Harry’s heart,” she said with a very Harry like grin. “He’s told me so much about you.”

    Louis blushed slightly, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Louis, but you probably already knew that.”

    “I’m Anne of course,” Anne said, “Shall we have a cuppa and catch up?”

    Anne kept things light and easy, much like her son had done when he and Louis had first met. She only pried enough to know that her son was well care for. That Louis didn’t plan on breaking his heart. But it was all veiled under questions of what they had planned for their immediate future. It was nice.

    It had been an hour when Anne pushed back from the table, “Well I should go. You probably have better things to do than talk to an old mum like me.”

    “I had a great time!” Louis contradicted her, “We should get together another time. Perhaps we could join forces and convince Harry to get rid of those ridiculous head scarves of his.”

    Anne laughed, “We joke, but you and I both know that is a lost cause. And we wouldn’t change him even if we could.”

    “You’re right,” Louis said as he returned Anne’s hug, “I wouldn’t change him for the world.”

    Anne patted Louis’s cheek affectionately and with her final goodbye turned to leave. Louis retrieved his phone and typed out a quick text to Harry that all had gone well. Harry’s reply was cheeky as always:

     _I told you so._

 

***

 

    The next day Louis was walking home from practice when a trashy newspaper at a stand caught his eye. Splayed across the cover in glorious ink was the heading “Tomlinson’s secret lover?”

    His heart stopped. Icy dread spread from his chest like a virus, destroying everything it touched. He forced himself to take a breath, wondering why he should be living out this terrible nightmare.

    His hands trembled as he bought a copy. It was only as the seller was handing him his change that he recognized him.

    “Is it true?” the seller’s teasing was lost on Louis. To him it registered as an accusation. And in his fear Louis turned and ran, forgetting his change.

    The rest of Louis’s route back to his apartment was a blur. He ran like a man possessed, or pursued by demons. He certainly felt like he was.

    Inside his apartment, Louis triple locked his doors. As if he could protect himself from the opinions of others if he locked them out. It was foolish but it was all Louis could do.

    His heart was racing as he skimmed the article. Of course there were the photos from the volunteering. But there were others. Louis painting with Harry. Louis at a coffee shop with Harry. Photos of Harry’s mum. It was all there.

    Louis felt sick. The ink from the paper was rubbing off onto his sweating hands. The stain served only to remind him of his guilt. No no no no no no!

    He dashed to his computer and googled “Louis Tomlinson gay?” It was something he had done a lot when he had first signed with his team. It had been his way of checking that his cover hadn’t been blown. Whether anyone suspected him. He hadn’t done it since he had been with Harry. Harry had made him feel safe.

    He found a website that appeared to have broken the story. They had a menagerie of photos they claimed were Louis and Harry. Some of these photos Louis wasn’t sure was of him and Harry, because he would never have let Harry kiss him on an Underground platform. No matter how dark it was. But it didn’t matter because plenty of the photos were of Harry and Louis. And the theories the author had drawn from them were the very things that had terrified Louis his entire adult life.

    The breech of privacy snapped something inside Louis and blinded by his fear he blacked out.

 

    Harry found Louis scrubbing frantically at the title in his kitchen. His breathing wheezy and anxious. Louis’s body was raw from the scrubbing he had down in the shower. As if he cleaned hard enough the gossip would disappear. That he could be straight.

    “Louis what happened? What’s wrong?” Harry’s voice was anxious too. His eyes were burning at the strong scent of cleaning solution. Louis had scrubbed his apartment from ceiling to floor. As if the walls had been stained by what had happened inside those walls.

    Harry pried the sponge from Louis’s fierce grasp, and held him at his wrists to force Louis to look up at him.

    “Louis, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Harry’s voice was desperate and concerned. He had never seen Louis like this.

    “It’s not safe!” Louis hissed, his breath still coming in tight gasps, “They’re watching us. We’re not safe.”

    Louis thrashed against Harry’s hold, even as Harry pulled him against his chest to keep him from hurting himself or Harry. Harry rocked Louis back and forth, insisting that they were in the clear. Much like he had always done. But Louis would not, or could not, hear him.

    “That’s it. We have to get you to the hospital.” Harry determined, his voice trembling with fear for Louis.

    Harry did not relinquish his hold on Louis as he half carried him down to his car. Buckled into the passenger seat Louis felt dread welling up inside him. He couldn’t be here, he couldn’t be here with Harry. Someone would see. 

    The night he had been with Stan flashed before his eyes. The men that had seen them kissing in Stan’s car pursuing them. The slurs they had shouted at them as the raced to get away from them. The fear Louis had felt when they sideswiped them, running them off the road. The ditch, the blackness. Stan in the hospital. It was too much.

    “I can’t breath,” Louis rasped as Harry took another turn. He couldn’t do it again. Not with Harry.

    “It’s alright Lou, we’re almost there. Come on look at me,” Harry tried desperately to sooth Louis. Harry grabbed Louis chin and forces him to look at him. “We’re almost there.”

    Brake lights lit up ahead of them. Louis had just enough time to scream before Harry realized what was happening. He slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. In a spray of light and glass the airbags deployed and Louis saw nothing but black.

 

***

 

    Louis was being blinded by a light when he came to. It was frightening at first to find his neck stiff. It took a second to recognize that he was in a neck brace. That a doctor was checking his pupils, asking him questions.

    Louis was desperate to find out what had happened to Harry, “Where is he? Where is Harry?” Louis cried. He tried to sit up, but he was pushed back by the nurse.

    “He’s in surgery, but you have to lie still. We need to examine you more.” the nurse tried to be soothing but firm. Louis felt an icy knife slice through his heart. He was a jinx.

    After the he was examined Louis was placed in a hospital room to be monitored over night. Alone with only his thoughts, Louis could only think of Harry. He was terrible for Harry. If it hadn’t been for Louis and his panic attack Harry wouldn’t be in surgery. Harry would be safe. Louis was the worst thing that ever happened to him.

    Harry deserved someone better than Louis. Someone that wasn’t afraid of this’s. Someone that could walk in the sunlight with Harry. Not have to sulk around corners. Someone that wasn’t afraid to be seen with him. So Louis made up his mind.

    As soon as he was able, Louis went to see Harry. Harry was looking pretty banged up but not much worse than Louis. He looked pleased to see Louis. Until Louis placed the airplane necklace on Harry’s bedside table.

    “What are you doing?” Harry’s voice was weak. He suddenly recognized the meaning of Louis’s surrender of the necklace.

    “I’m trying to keep you save Harry,” Louis voice was choked with tears. Somehow he had imagined this being easier, “I’m a jinx.”

    “You’re not a jinx Lou,” Harry insisted, “And even if you were, I don’t care. I love you.”

    Louis wanted to take it all back. Somehow those words had always been unspoken between them. Hearing them out loud was almost Louis’s undoing. But his love for Harry forced him to protect him. And to protect him, he had to let him go.

    “I won’t have you consumed by this Harry.” Louis choked out, tears escaping down his cheeks, “I can’t. I won’t.”

    Louis’s feet felt like lead as he forced himself to leave Harry. Harry called after him desperate. His voice cracking with emotion as he realized truly what Louis was doing. It nearly destroyed Louis.

 

 

    It took 2 weeks for Harry to stop calling. It took another week for Louis to realize that Harry had stopped trying. He was almost inconsolable when he realized it. 

    Every time Harry’s number had appeared on Louis’s caller ID was like a knife to his heart. He couldn’t bear the sight of it. But the flicker of love every time he felt it made it almost more painful for it to come to an end. Louis wondered at times what he had done to deserve such torment.

    Louis had changed the lock on his door the minute he had been released from the hospital. He knew the minute Harry was released from the hospital. He had had to block out the sound of Harry’s desperate pleas to let him in as he rattled the doorknob. But soon enough Harry stopped trying that too.

    He nearly stopped eating. Niall almost had to force feed him every time he stopped by. Liam too stopped by regularly to check if he had a fever or was sick, he was worried about Louis. Zayn was sometimes with him, but Louis paid him no mind. Let him see. Let them all see. It didn’t matter anyway.

    Louis cleaned what he could of Harry from his apartment. But it was impossible to erase the memories of Harry from that space. Dancing in his living room. Harry cooking in his kitchen. So much of their relationship had unfolded within the walls of his apartment. The place Louis thought they were safe from the world. 

    But while he was haunted by the ghosts in his apartment, he was terrified of leaving. Afraid he might run into Harry out on the street. He knew he’d be too weak to resist, and that would put Harry in danger.

    He was better on his own.

 

    “Louis, you really need to get out of this tomb you’ve made for yourself.” Liam was trying to catch Louis’s gaze. “It’s not healthy. You should go outside, and get some fresh air.”

    Louis felt numb. He couldn’t muster a response. It was typical of Liam and Zayn’s visits to insist that he go out. So far he had resisted, begging off because he claimed that he was still recovering from his accident. The accident he had been in with Harry.

    “You should come to my gallery opening tonight. There will lots of people there. No one will pay you any mind.” Zayn offered.

    “That’s a brilliant idea Zayn!” Liam said with forced enthusiasm. “Come on Louis, we should get you cleaned up.”

    Liam hustled him into the master bathroom and turned on the shower for Louis. Louis watched with a pained expression as Liam selected some clothes for Louis to wear.

    “Now don’t give me that look,” Liam scolded Louis. “You’re going and that’s the last of that. Zayn and I will drag you out of this apartment whether you’re ready or not. So I suggest you get ready.”

    Alone in the bathroom, Louis showered and then shaved. It had been weeks since he had last shaved. His unkept beard showed just how far Louis had fallen. 

    Under the beard Louis could see himself truly for the first time in a long while. He looked tired and haunted. His eyes had sunk deep into his sockets. Reflected in them were the ghosts he was tired of running from.

    He tried to ignore it and focus on other things. Like picking out better clothes then those Liam had selected. Louis did so begrudgingly, but in doing so felt more like himself.

    When Liam knocked on his bedroom door, Louis was ready.

    “Louis, you look better.” Liam’s tone was surprised. It was then that Louis realized just how worried his friends had been about him.

    “Should I call Eleanor?” Louis winced at his own question, “It might help with my cover.”

    Zayn cut in before Liam had a chance to say anything. “I think it would be best to let yourself heal without the presence of an audience.”

    “You’re probably right,” Louis agreed, immediately relieved. He didn’t want to call Eleanor anyway. It was just a force of habit.

    Liam kept up a stream of consciousness all the way to the gallery. Neither Zayn or Louis kept up their sides of the conversation. Zayn would on occasion give a grunt or a murmur of agreement. Louis remained silent the whole way.

    Louis followed Liam and Zayn into the gallery at a close distance. Their shoulders were pressed together as Liam leaned in to whisper something to Zayn, effectively blocking Louis from view. They tried to include Louis in their conversations, but Louis begged off with an apologetic shake of his head. Everyone just wanted to congratulate Zayn on a job well done anyway.

    Slowly Liam and Zayn stopped trying to force Louis into conversation and just allowed him to hang silently behind them. From this vantage point Louis could see just how deeply the two of them were in love with one another. 

    They were doing a pretty good job at being subtle about it, but it was written in all the actions between them. The causal touching. Their heads leaned close in conversation. The way their eyes crinkled more when the other looked at him. It made the familiar ache in Louis’s chest grow.

    Louis decided that he didn’t want to sit front row on someone else’s happiness. So he wandered out into the gallery space. There was a certain anonymity amongst these people, Louis thought. Everyone was more focused in the art adorning the walls then any footie players that might be there with them. Louis liked that.

    Wandering into the adjacent room Louis’s eye was caught by something hanging from the ceiling. What he saw took his breath away.

    Suspended from the ceiling were thousands of paper airplanes. They were hung at different lengths to look like they were floating along the top of a tumultuous ocean surface. They were all smudged with gray charcoal, so while they looked different individually they were indistinguishable at a distance. That was except for two of them. They were in screaming color.

    Louis’s mouth ran dry as he recognized Harry’s distinct style. Paper airplanes. Then suddenly everywhere he looks was Harry. Everywhere Harry’s artwork shone like a beacon of light. All the pieces Louis had cared so little about moments before took on new meaning. Because the pieces were of Harry and Louis.

    Looking at some of the photos on the wall he recognized snapshots from his own life. Harry had always carried a camera with him, but Louis had never asked to see the photos. 

    They had been of little things, goofy things, things Louis was sure would never have mattered to anyone in the long run. A pair of toothbrushes sitting in a cup on a bathroom vanity. Shoes kicked off by the doorway. But Harry had hidden these black and white moments behind a pattern of shapes cut from other photographs. Photos of forests.

    Louis recognized himself in some of the photos. Photos of there hands intertwined. His legs stretched out over Harry’s. Harry kissing him on the cheek. His surprise and delight peeking about around the dense forest Harry had covered them with. Louis understood their meaning before he ever read the title written on the plaque below. Are we out of the woods?

    Louis dashed from piece to piece in the gallery, looking for anything that might also be Harry’s. He felt like he owed it to Harry to see the pain that he had caused him. To let Harry’s art be the closure Louis hadn’t let Harry have.

    There were many other pieces. A ceramic paper plane with Harry’s looping script written inside the folds. A love letter. Its tip bent like it had crashed into a wall. Polaroids of lips nibbling on ears. Intimate close-ups of usually un-photographed parts of the body. The juncture of neck to shoulder. The side of the ribs. A hipbone. All places they had kissed and been kissed.

    The gallery was a testament to their relationship. Seeing all the highs and lows knit together made it feel beautiful. Perfect. Though much of it hit Louis like a punch to the gut. Seeing all the beauty made the memories feel bittersweet.

    Louis decided that he was done. He didn’t want to see it anymore. It would tear him apart again, and he had just finished putting himself back together.

    Louis spun around to leave and nearly ran into a familiar looking chest. Harry.

    “I didn’t know you’d be here,” Harry’s voice was quiet but filled with longing.

    Louis was stunned, he tried to jump start his brain. But it wasn’t listening to him. It was still too surprised to see Harry standing before him. All long legs and wild curls. Though his eyes looked very un-Harry like. Drooping and watery, he didn’t look anything like the cheerful Harry Louis remembered.

    “I didn’t know it was yours,” Louis finally managed to choke out. “But it’s an excellent gallery.”

    “Thank you,” Harry’s voice was hardly a whisper.

    They stood there in silence. Staring at each other. Harry’s eyes were begging him to stay? To go? Louis couldn’t be sure. He tried to think of a way to apologize for what he had done to Harry. But what could he say? Sorry would never be enough.

    “Can we talk?” Harry finally spoke, clearing his throat. Louis nodded urgently. He would do anything to take Harry’s pain away. To relight the spark inside Harry. He owed Harry that much.

    Louis followed Harry out to the alley behind the gallery. It was dark and grimy, but Louis felt like he deserved that. He deserved to hop into the dumpster and be taken out with the next load, but he didn’t say that. He waited for Harry to speak.

    They were once again staring at each other. Waiting for the other to speak, or get the courage to speak themselves. So when they spoke at the same time, it surprised them both, “I’ve missed you.”

    Then they were speaking at the same time. Getting closer to one another with each declaration.

    “I really missed you.”

    “I thought I was going to come apart.”

    “I didn’t think it could ever hurt that much.”

    “I was an idiot.”

    When they couldn’t get any near to each other Louis flung himself into Harry’s arms. Their arms wrapped possessively around one another as their lips met. They kissed passionately.

    They kissed like they were afraid that the other would disappear if they stopped. They kissed like the other was air and they were afraid of drowning. Hands tangled themselves into shirts and hair, trying to pull the other closer. Harry sucked Louis’s tongue into his mouth as if he could swallow Louis whole. Louis ground his hips into Harry’s like he could fuse them with enough pressure. No matter the contact it didn’t seem there was enough.

    Tears mixed on their cheeks and seasoned their kiss. Louis started to cry harder when he realized that Harry was also crying. He tried to apologize. Sobbing out his I’m sorry’s in the moments between contact with Harry’s lips.

    The desperate passion slowly gave way to Louis’s sobbing apology. Harry held him tight against his chest and rocked him, his tears lost in Louis’s hair.

    “I’m so sorry Harry, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you as terrible as that might sound.” Louis managed to say when he was feeling more coherent.

    “It’s my fault Louis, I pushed you.” Harry rubbed Louis’s back.

    “No,” Louis shook his head, “I needed to be pushed. If it wasn’t for you I never would have found someone that I could love again. I didn’t think I ever would after Stan.”

    “It’s because of what happened with you and Stan that I should have been more understanding,” Harry replied. “But I was selfish.”

    Louis looked up at Harry’s tear stained face. “You don’t have a selfish bone in your body.”

    Harry managed a weak grin. Then it gained some wattage as he said, “Let’s get out of here.”

    Louis was confused, “But it’s your gallery showing. Shouldn’t you be here?”

    “The only place I want to be is wrapped up in your arms,” Harry said squeezing Louis tighter. “I don’t care what some critic wants to say about my art.”

    Louis’s lips pulled up at the corners, the first hint at a smile. “Let’s go back to my place,” he offered.

    “Lou, are you sure?” Harry’s face was uneasy, “What if someone sees us?”

    “I don’t care,” Louis said shaking his head, “Besides my place is closer.”

    Louis didn’t remember the way back to his apartment. He was too absorbed in the boy that was holding his hand tight in his own. Before he knew it they were standing in the foyer of Louis’s apartment.

    The ghosts that had haunted Louis’s apartment were exorcised the moment Harry stepped into the room. But even Harry could feel the weight they had placed on the space. Like a mausoleum opened for the first time in years.

    “Lou, what happened in--” Harry started, but Louis pressed a finger to hips lips. Silencing him.

    “Kiss me.” Louis’s voice was barely above a whisper. But Harry obeyed.

    His lips were soft and tender on Louis, not asking for anything. It was the sort of delicate kiss that had never passed between them before. 

    Their past kisses had always been rough and demanding. The moments they had shared had always been fevered with passion. Tenderness was always swept by the way side. Lost in the undercurrent of the heat between them.

    Louis stroked the downy hair at the nape of Harry’s neck as Harry cupped his face in his warm hands. He had never truly appreciated just how soft Harry was. He always thought of Harry as strong and powerful, a man that could take what he wanted. The stuff of fantasy. But Harry was more than that. He was surprised to find out that this soft, tender, pliant Harry could twist his insides just as much.

    At some wordless command Harry’s hands shifted down Louis’s back. They kept slipping until they were in position to lift Louis up. Louis wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist as Harry started in the direction of Louis’s room.

    Harry nudged open the door with his shoulder. Then gently he lay Louis down on the mattress. The weight of Harry on Louis’s chest was a welcome pressure, as was the distinct knob pressing against his thigh.

    Harry propped up onto his forearms, swiping Louis’s fringe out of his eyes. “Louis, I--” Harry was at a loss for words.

    “Please,” Louis interrupted him. “Make love to me.”

    Harry smiled slightly and then pressed a quick kiss to Louis’s lips. He stood up, to undress and Louis did the same from the mattress. Their motions were deliberate, so that they never lost eye contact for more than a moment. They wanted to treasure this.

    Harry stood gloriously naked before Louis. The way his body looked still look Louis’s breath away. The hard angles, contrasting with the soft curves in his flesh. Louis swallowed around a lump of emotion in his throat.

    Harry leaned down to recapture Louis’s lips with his own. He pressed them back so that Louis was on his back again, Harry lying between his legs. Louis ran his hands up Harry’s chest reverently.

    As Harry kissed a line up along Louis’s jaw, Louis tried to catch his breath, “I want...”

    “What do you want Lou?” Harry’s warm breath caressed Louis’ inner ear.

    “I want...you inside me.” Louis finally finished, knowing that’s what he wanted.

    Harry stopped and pulled back to look Louis in the eye. “Louis are you sure?” Harry’s voice was questioning, trying to gage whether Louis was serious.

    All that time that they had been together, Harry have never been inside Louis. Louis had drawn the line there. He had given Harry everything else, but not that. And Harry never pushed, content to let Louis ride him instead.

    “Yes, I’m sure.” Louis said locking eyes with Harry, wanting to convey his certainty.

    “Let me know if you want to stop,” Harry’s voice was serious. He knew what this meant for Louis.

    Louis nodded and then drew Harry back down for a deep kiss. He reached between them and caught hold of Harry’s cock, starting to slowly work him over with his hand.

    Harry broke off the kiss, “Not yet. You first.”

    Harry removed Louis’s hand from his cock, and mirrored the gesture on Louis’s cock. Louis hissed, the deprivation of the last weeks made the action feel more intense.

    Harry kissed a trail down Louis’s jaw to his neck. Then his neck to his chest. Louis’s breathing was becoming unsteady by the time Harry reached his navel. 

    Kneeling between his legs Louis was having trouble keeping track of Harry’s hands. The one on his cock was making it harder to register the one sliding along his inner thigh. Then was twisting it into Louis’s tight hole.

    Louis squirmed under the contact and Harry nearly pulled back out, “Lou? Are you alright?”

    Louis’s breathing was coming in pants, “Oh god, that’s good. Keep going.”

    Harry didn’t waste a moment and twisted in another finger, opening Louis up. Louis nearly cried out. Harry’s attention continued on Louis’s cock. The different sensations together was almost too much.

    “What do you want Lou?” Harry coached, “Tell me what you want.”

    “More,” Louis managed to pant out.

    Harry slipped in a third finger, reaching deeper into Louis then he had before. Louis gasped. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life, but yet he didn’t want it to stop.

    “More,” he encourage Harry, “I need more.”

    Harry seemed to chuckle, “I’ll give you everything I’ve got.”

    Harry removed his fingers and Louis nearly cried from the loss of contact. That was until Harry was hooking Louis’s knee over his shoulder, positioning himself to enter Louis.

    “Are you ready for me Louis?” Harry asked releasing Louis’s cock.

    Louis wanted to weep for joy, “Oh yes, please.”

    Harry didn’t need further encouragement. He pressed slowly but firmly into Louis, and Louis hissed through his teeth. He had never appreciated just how deliciously wide Harry was. He had been missing out.

    Harry started to work in and out of Louis. Each time he surged a little deeper. Each time Louis was sure that the pressure growing in his belly couldn’t possibly grow tighter. But it did.

    Harry was flushed down to his nipples, which Louis recognized meant that Harry was getting close. He didn’t have long to ponder that realization though because Harry surged forward and hit a spot deep inside him. He hadn’t even realized he had such a spot. He gasped in astonishment.

    “Keep going,” Louis replied to the questioning look on Harry’s face, “I’m so close, keep going.”

    Harry started to smile down at Louis, but then bit down on his lip. Louis knew what was happening, “Harry let go.”

    “But what about you?” Harry’s voice sounded strained.

    “Don’t worry about me,” Louis panted, “I’ll follow your lead.”

    Harry didn’t last much longer. On the next thrust his body spasmed, and Louis felt the echoing warm gush inside him. Just like he promised, Louis followed shortly after him. His body spasmed around Harry. He raked his nails down Harry’s back trying to find something to hold on to.

    Harry collapsed onto Louis’s chest, panting through the aftershocks. “Thank you,” Harry sighed. Louis didn’t think he could talk, so he just nodded and patted Harry on the back. 

    They lay in silence, soaking in the pleasure of each other’s company. The longer they lay there the more Louis could feel the words bubbling up. “I’m sorry I left you.” Louis held onto Harry, worried his words would make Harry leave him.

    “It’s my fault, I wanted too much from you.” Harry sniffed lightly, his emotions were hovering just below the surface.

    “You didn’t!” Louis lifted Harry’s face to look at him, “You never asked anything from me.”

    “That’s not true,” Harry’s eyes were sad. “I wanted so much from you.”

    Louis wasn’t convinced, “You always said you didn’t care about labels.”

    “Well at first.” Harry sighed, “I never was the type of guy that was into label or relationships. I just like things to be causal, and just you know...hang out. But then I started to be with you and suddenly I wanted more.”

    “I didn’t know.” Louis stroked Harry’s face.

    “Well I did a pretty good job of hiding it.” Harry continued, “I knew you couldn’t do labels, and I thought it would be fine. I thought those feelings would go away, but they didn’t. I wanted more, I wanted to tell people about us. I didn’t want to have to lurk in the shadows, I want to walk in the sunlight and show you off. And hiding you from everyone I cared about was tearing me up inside.”

    “I know,” Louis said, “That’s why I wanted to let you go. So that you could find that with someone else, since I couldn’t give it to you.”

    “But I didn’t want you to. I wanted it with you.” Harry asserted, “Having any part of you was enough for me.”

    “But it shouldn’t,” Louis said, “You deserved more. Having only part of me shouldn’t have been the only way.”

    “Don’t,” Harry’s eyes welled up, “Don’t say that. You’ll just use it as an excuse to leave me again. I don’t care.”

    Louis realized just how hard their separation had been on Harry. He was the one that had been selfish.

    “I don’t want to leave Harry,” Louis’s voice was choked with emotion.

    “Then don’t.”

    Louis hugged Harry tighter, “I never will again. So long as you’ll have me.”

    “Promise?” Harry held up his pinkie finger.

    Louis took it without question, “Promise.”

 

***

 

1 year later

 

    Louis took a deep breath and eyed the goalie standing before him. He hopped from foot to foot trying to shake the nerves out. The score was all tied up and it was all up to him.

    Reaching into his jersey Louis pulled out his lucky charm. Harry’s paper plane necklace. Harry had given it back to him when he and Louis had moved in together. A stylish flat near the stadium with a studio space for Harry. They had been breaking in their new bedroom when Harry had asked if he’d wear it again. Of course Louis had said yes.

    Louis tuned out everything besides the upper left corner of the goal. The crowd. The other players. Even the goalie. Gone. Nothing but him and that upper corner.

    It was now or never. Louis took a final deep breath and started to run towards the ball. He kept his sights on that upper corner as he felt his foot contact the ball. He watched in slow motion at the ball soared up and up. Slipping just over the tips of the goalie’s fingertips. 

    The roar from the crowd was deafening.

    Louis was swarmed by his teammates. They were yelling. He was yelling. Adrenaline was still singing in his blood. It was a high that didn’t come often, but there was only one person that he wanted to share it with.

    Harry.

    Louis searched the sidelines until he found Harry. He was grinning like an idiot, jumping and waving at Louis. Louis couldn’t resist.

    Pulling himself free of his celebrating teammates Louis ran headlong toward Harry. Louis leapt into Harry’s outstretched arms and their momentum spun them around.

    The two boys were so caught up in their embrace they didn’t notice their images projected on the jumbo screen. If it was possible the energy of the stadium increased tenfold.

    It was Harry that noticed their intimate moment being relaid for all the fans. He pointed it out to Louis with only a touch of concern. The two of them had worked a lot to overcome Louis’s particular demons. This would be the champion round of all they had built.

    Louis looked up at the screen to see himself, arms draped around Harry’s neck. Harry’s own arms wrapped around the small of his back. A year ago this would have been his worst nightmare. But that was before.

    Louis grabbed hold of Harry’s face and kissed him long and deep. There were hoots and hollers from the crowd but Louis didn’t care. All he cared about the boy holding him tight against his chest. He felt safe knowing that they would face the world together.

    They were out of the woods.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you loved it as much as I loved writing it! If you feel inclined I'd love to hear from you in the comments. Thanks for reading!!  
> Peace, Love, and One Direction everyone!


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